The Magical Education of Liza Stutler
by skarletfyre
Summary: 20 years later, Dave's life is falling apart. His wife is dead, his daughter is a loose cannon and knows nothing of magic. Horvath chooses this time to make his grand reentrance into his life, setting his sights on that which Dave treasures most.
1. Effects of Time

**Title:** The Magical Education of Liza Stutler

**Author:** skarletfyre

**Rating:** M, for language, mature situations, drug content, underage drinking, possibly ideologically sensitive material, and all that crazy stuff I'm so fond of.

**Summary:** Twenty years later, Dave's falling apart. His teenage daughter is a loose cannon and knows nothing of magic, his wife is dead, his career is failing. Horvath chooses this of all times to make his grand reentrance, setting his sights on that which Dave treasures most.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own, nor am I affiliated with Sorcerer's Apprentice or Disney or any of it's associates. I'm also broke, so suing would be pointless.

**A/N:** I would like to credit _**kenobigirlliz**_ for letting me go ahead with this. It was her story, '_**Dave's Daughter**_,' that inspired this, and I recommend it to all interested. It's pretty good.

* * *

Nothing was the same after Becky died.

At the much-too-young age of twenty-four, she was diagnosed with stage four melanoma. That mole on her back wasn't really a mole at all. Two years later, four years after they'd married and three years after they created a beautiful baby girl, Rebecca Elizabeth Stutler passed away, leaving behind her loving husband and young daughter.

That was fourteen years ago.

David was falling apart. His career at NYU was suffering because of his insomnia. He was only forty and he was already losing his hair, his wild dark locks now streaked sporadically with grey. His naturally wiry frame was now wasting away, except for his gut. His fellow professors, and even some students, had commented on the dark circles under his eyes, and the increasing pallor of his skin. The dean had approached him only last week and asked him if he needed some time off. Dave had just shook his head, forced a smile, and said that he'd be fine. He'd been tempted to drink on several occasions, but had resisted for one reason.

Liza.

However, the urge grew stronger every passing day. The sweet little girl with the wide blue eyes and angelic smile was fading fast, buried under the caustic, cynical teenager that now occupied the room at the end of the hall. When Becky died, she'd been too young to understand. She hadn't even had time to know her mother, form a relationship with her. Maybe if she had, she wouldn't have turned out like this.

At only seventeen, Liza had frown lines etched lightly into her face, thought lines into her forehead. Her outlook on life was bleak, to put it gently. She was a firm believer in conspiracy theories, severely distrusted all forms of authority, considered the government to be corrupt and untrustworthy, and hated anything to with conservatism or bigotry. She was a pessimist in all respects.

Except one.

Ever since she was little, and possibly even more so now, Liza had been entranced by fantasy novels. At age six, she completed the Lord of the Rings trilogy, but only after reading The Hobbit. Then she'd discovered the Harry Potter novels, and then the Dragonlance books. When she nine, she hit upon the big ones, the ones Dave had been dreading: the Arthurian Legends. She was fascinated by them, and used to run around the house in a backwards bathrobe, pretending she was a powerful sorceress. Even now, Dave could sometimes catch the corner of _The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe_ poking out of her backpack.

He found it gut-wrenching.

Dave hadn't told Liza about magic. He'd planned to, before Becky died, when she was old enough to understand and could control it. Becky's death had changed things. Dave hadn't used magic in almost twelve years. He'd abandoned it. After all, magic couldn't save Becky, so what good was it? Morgana was gone, Horvath hadn't been seen or heard from since that night in Battery Park, and Balthazar had moved back to England with Veronica. The old master and apprentice hardly spoke now, mostly because they disagreed on the way Dave was raising Liza.

Balthazar thought Dave was being foolish, only focusing on the negative aspects of magic instead of taking the positive ones into account. He felt that Liza had the right to tap into her potential and know what she was capable was, to know that there was more to life than this meager existence. Dave had stoutly resisted, and he had his own reasons which he refused to divulge to either Balthazar or Veronica, no matter how many times or ways they asked it.

Liza was growing up too fast as it was. She had been for a while, and Dave didn't like it one bit.

When she was fifteen, he'd found birth control pills in her bag while trying to help her find her cell phone. The fight that followed was one of the worst they'd ever had. A neighbor had even come over and asked if he needed to call the police. Dave had slammed the door in her face. The police never showed up.

Recently she'd begun to come home smelling like booze and smoke. Not tobacco smoke, either. That had been the cause of another big fight. She denied doing drugs, claiming that one of her friends had been smoking on the car ride home. Dave knew instantly that she was lying. She was very good at it, something that often worried him more than it should, but he was her father. He'd raised her. She still had the same tic in her jaw when she was lying as she did when she five years old, telling him she didn't break the flowerpot. The same one she'd just whacked over with the broom. He would give anything for her to lie to him about broken flowerpots again.

Another new development in her personality was her increasing interest in political activism.

Two months ago, her Health class had taken a field trip to a Battered Women's Shelter and spent the day there. When she came home that evening, there was a spark in her baby blue eyes that was usually only reserved for her books.

A few week ago, she'd almost been arrested for partaking in a protest supporting Gay Marriage that had gotten out of hand. She'd come home with a black eye and a broken hand, which she said she got by punching the cop who was trying to handcuff her and running away. Dave hadn't gotten any sleep that night, or for the rest of the week.

It was past midnight now, and she still wasn't home. He'd considered setting a curfew, but figured she'd probably just move out altogether if he tried. He didn't want that. Gods knew what she got up to when she was out. The night before, she'd staggered through the door at quarter to three, her hair a mess, and collapsed face down onto the couch where she'd spent the rest of the night. He still didn't know how on earth she kept her straight A's in school.

Dave stared down at the stack of papers in front him, still ungraded. His red pen was running low on ink, and the words were starting to run together. He should have been in bed hours ago.

And she should have been home by then, too.

He sighed in resignation, rubbing at his bleary eyes. He groaned and let his head fall with a thunk onto the kitchen table.

* * *

The blue tinged smoke of a marijuana cigarette wafted slowly around the room.

Liza followed it's progress with her red-rimmed eyes, watching it float this way and that, thinning out as it climbed higher. It passed through a beam of moonlight, reminding her of the time. She should have gone home at least two hours ago.

The tattooed arm tightened fractionally around her hips, the man next to her shifting in his sleep. She looked at him, taking another drag off the joint.

Jared wasn't her boyfriend. He wasn't even technically her friend. She'd met him at the rally the other week, and the two had started talking. She was delighted by his passion for what he did, and his belief in making things right in the world. He was a couple years older than her, but that didn't bother her at all. Nor did his multiple piercings and tattoos. He said that each one had a meaning, and a reason. She knew that was bullshit and he was just trying to get into her pants, but she'd let him. She liked him. He was sweet, albeit a bit intense.

She looked to her right in the other side of the bed. Jillian was fast asleep, her freckled face tilted up towards Liza, her white-blonde hair falling lightly into her closed hazel eyes. Liza resisted the urge to brush it away and kiss her. That would just wake her up. She didn't want that.

She wasn't sure about her feeling for Jillian. They'd known each other for about a year now, having met in their Explorative Art class, which, thinking back on it, Liza found to be a little ironic. Jillian was a painter, and a damned good one. She'd painted Liza a few times, submitting them for school projects. She'd gotten top marks, but always said it was due more to Liza's beauty than her artistic talent. She'd later submitted the paintings to local art galleries, and had gotten some very good reviews on them. She kept the nudes and semi-nudes for her private collection.

Liza wasn't a lesbian, nor did she consider herself bisexual. She didn't quite know how to define her sexuality. She was attracted to people, not to a gender. She enjoyed being intimate with someone, or just being in their company, without having to pin down her feelings. Jillian was gay to the core, and had only agreed to join them that night because she could be with Liza. She'd actually hit Jared when he'd tried to kiss her. He'd backed off, content to watch the two girls enjoy each other. He'd gotten his turn later.

Liza looked up to the ceiling, blowing smoke rings. They were at Jared's, of course, only a few blocks from her apartment. She seriously thought about just rolling over and going to sleep right there, but knew she'd never hear the end of it from her father when she came home.

He meant well, and she knew that. He was just a little anal sometimes. He'd never gotten over her mother's death, and had never been in another relationship. She worried about him sometimes, feeling a little bad for the hell she'd put him through these last few years. Then she'd remember all the times he'd shouted at her, grounded her for minor offenses, tried to control her life. He'd pretty much given up this last year, but every once in a while he'd snap. It was never a pretty sight.

She reached back and scrunched out her joint on the wall, the ashes falling onto the pillow next to her. She made sure they wouldn't set it on fire, then gently removed Jared's arm from her waist. He grunted in his sleep, but didn't wake. She pulled back the covers and wriggled out from between her two lovers, careful not to disturb them. If she did, they'd never let her leave.

She crawled off the end of the bed and tugged on her jeans, not bothering to find her panties. She'd get them later. Her bra, however was another story. From the pictures she'd seen, she had her mother's figure, which was rather curvaceous. Bras became necessary at age twelve, and were even more needed now at age seventeen. She found hers draped crookedly over the lamp on Jared's desk and slipped it on. Her t-shirt was balled up at the foot of the bed, wrinkled and dusty, but still wearable. She shook it gently before tugging it on, in case there were spiders hiding in it.

She gathered her bag from it's place by the door, then turned for one last look at the sleeping forms. She'd get hell from Jillian for leaving her there, but she couldn't very well take her home, now could she? Her dad would probably have a seizure.

Liza hesitated for a moment, then quietly crossed back to the bed and kissed Jillian gently on the temple. The short girl smiled slightly in her sleep, but otherwise didn't stir. Liza exited the grimy apartment as silently as she could and walked out into the night.


	2. Coincidence? I think NOT!

**Title:** The Magical Education of Liza Stutler

**Author:** skarletfyre

**Rating:** M, for language, mature situations, drug content, underage drinking, possibly ideologically sensitive material, and all that crazy stuff I'm so fond of.

**Summary:** Twenty years later, Dave's falling apart. His teenage daughter is a loose cannon and knows nothing of magic, his wife is dead, his career is failing. Horvath chooses this of all times to make his grand reentrance, setting his sights on that which Dave treasures most.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own, nor am I affiliated with Sorcerer's Apprentice or Disney or any of it's associates. I'm also broke, so suing would be pointless.

**A/N:** I have no association with Washington Irving High School, nor do I know anything about it's curriculum or class offerings. I don't do research because it's boring. I make it up as I go. If you know, that's great. I don't. Blah.

* * *

Her father was asleep at the kitchen table when Liza got home, slumped over with his forehead resting on a half-graded paper. She couldn't help but grin at the sight of him and considered taking a picture to show him in the morning. The grin faded when she realized he'd probably just yell at her for not waking him up.

She set her handbag quietly on the sofa and shrugged off her jacket, hanging it on the coat rack by the door. She slipped off her ballet flats and padded softly over to the sleeping man, biting at the inside of her bottom lip. After a long moments hesitation, she reached out and gently shook his shoulder.

His head shot up like he'd been electrocuted, his brown eyes wide and panicked. Then they focused on Liza and cleared up. She took a careful step back. He stared at her.

"You're home late," he said softly, a resigned tone to his voice, running a hand through his hair. She shrugged.

"Yeah, but at least I'm home at all," she said. The words came out harsher than she'd meant. They always seemed to do that when she spoke to him. He considered for a moment, then nodded.

"I suppose there is that," he mumbled to himself. Liza felt a little guilty for being such a pain. The feeling passed quickly. Dave swallowed and smacked his lips together, looking around the table and falling on his half-empty glass of grape juice. He picked it up and took a sip, then made a face.

"Want me to get you a fresh glass?" Liza asked. He looked at her with raised eyebrows, surprised by how agreeable she was being. After a moment, he nodded and passed her the glass.

If there was one thing that Liza and Dave always agreed on, it was food. They both lived and ate by the philosophy that if it wasn't moving and it wasn't moldy, it was edible and tasted good. They were both perfectly content to live off of ramen, cold pizza, and grape juice. Every once in a while they'd treat themselves and go out for Chinese food (Italian for special occasions) but their menu was generally rather limited.

Liza got an extra glass from the cupboard and poured them both a cup of grape juice. She set one glass in front of her father and kept the other for herself, taking a seat across from him at the table. They each sipped their respective drink in silence for a long time.

"You'll probably want to cover up that love-bite in the morning," Dave said, gesturing to Liza's neck. Her hand shot up, face flushing. Jillian's work…

"Sorry," she said sheepishly. Dave looked away. After a moment, she cleared her throat.

"Do you need help grading papers?"

Her father looked at her suspiciously. She realized she was being nicer to him than she had been in a long time, and it was making him uneasy. She should've just gone to bed and left him at the table.

"Yeah," Dave said after a moment's silence. "That would be great."

She smiled at him slightly, something she also hadn't done in a while, and grabbed a small stack of essays. Her father passed her a spare Red Pen of Doom and the two got to work. They stayed up until the clock struck three, then grudgingly shuffled off to bed, papers graded and covered in red.

Liza and Dave collapsed face-first into their respective beds, another trait they shared, and fell asleep as soon their heads hit the pillows.

* * *

"Well, somebody must have had an eventful night."

Liza looked up sharply to find her chemistry teacher staring at her with a raised eyebrow. He tapped the side of his neck and smirked at her.

She blushed, tugging her collar higher. She'd forgotten about the hickey. Damn. And of course Mr. Greening just _had_ to point it out, as always. He seemed to take particular delight in messing with her, but not in a malicious way. The two had come to a silent agreement in the beginning of the year: he can crack all the jokes he likes at her expense and she can loudly critique his fashion sense and hair style. It was rather fun.

"Undoubtedly much better than your evening," she said. "How long did it take you to search through your entire collection of ugly ties and find _that_ hideous thing?"

He let out a bark of laughter and glanced down. His tie today was an atrocious color combination of pastel red, brown, purple, and orange. It looked like it was meant to be a collection of autumn berries, but it was truly foul.

Liza's classmates all glanced at each other and gave knowing looks. There was a rumour going around the school that the student and teacher were having an affair, but it was total bullshit. Started out of spite, no doubt, by one of Liza's spurned suitors.

Jillian came in three minutes before the bell and took her customary seat next to Liza. She grinned when she saw the hickey, but didn't comment. The boys at the table next to them made juvenile kissy noises. One of them, Tyshaun, made his fingers into a 'V' shape and brought his hand up to his mouth, waggling his tongue through the gap. Liza glared at him and took hold of Jillian's hand, a rare display of public affection. The boys shut up as the lesson began.

Jillian passed Liza a folded scrap of paper, giving her a meaningful look. Liza thought she knew was it was about and made extra sure that Mr. Greening wasn't paying attention before she opened it.

_You left me there, no goodbye. Why?_

Liza glanced at Jillian, her blue eyes flashing. She withdrew her favorite pen and scribbled back.

_Had to get home. Didn't wanna wake you. You'd have kept me._

Jillian smirked at the note, then tucked it quickly under her notebook as Mr. Greening turned away from the board and faced the class again. He lectured for a few minutes, then turned back and started scribbling equations. Jillian took her chance and wrote back.

_Damn straight. Wanna meet at the Usual after school? Alone I mean._

Now Liza smirked. Taking Jillian to Jared's was probably a mistake, and leaving her there _had_ been pretty bad. But what choice did she have? It's not that her dad wasn't open-minded, it was just that he was pretty old fashioned. She didn't think he'd totally flip and send her to Bible Camp or anything, but he might try to get her to see a therapist again, despite how disastrously the last venture into psychiatry had ended.

Liza thought about it for a moment, then quickly scribbled back.

_Can't. Violin._

Jillian's face fell momentarily as she read it, but then brightened.

_Can I watch?_

Liza's smirk was positively wicked.

_Meet you outside. ;)_

The day dragged by excruciatingly slowly, each second seeming to take an hour to tick by. It was a 'B' day on her schedule, meaning she had Chemistry, English Lit, Explorative Art, and Debate. On 'A' days it was History, Advanced Geometry, French, and Health. Liza preferred 'A' days, if only for French class. Ms. Neveu loved her. She had the perfect accent, and was the only one in Senior year to have tops marks in the class. Health was fun, too. Despite her unorthodox lifestyle, she was in remarkably good shape. Her teacher, Mrs. Hagen, thought she was the spitting image of perfection when it came to the distribution of body fat and muscle. When she mentioned this, several boys took it upon themselves to make hourglass motions with their hands.

Liza was the youngest in the Senior class, having skipped a grade a few years back due to her excellent grades. She'd managed to stay at the top of all her classes since seventh grade, and was now in the running to be class valedictorian. The thought wasn't nearly as pleasing as it should have been. People, particularly crowds, were not her strong point. But she knew that it would look good on her college applications, so she stuck to it.

When the last torturous class of the day was over and the final bell gave the okay for them to file out into freedom, Liza wasn't at all surprised to find Jared and his ancient, pastel green Volkswagen Beetle waiting for her. He smiled when he saw her and threw down his cigarette, stamping it out. Jillian grimaced.

"Maybe I should just take the bus," she said, glancing at Liza who quickly realized the problem. She grabbed Jillian's hand.

"Don't worry about him," she said reassuringly. "He's leaving after he drops me off anyways. His car is faster than the bus. Besides… Maybe you can come over after?"

Jillian's eyebrows disappeared under her blonde bangs.

"For real? Are you serious?"

"No, I'm Remus," Liza snarked, earning a half-hearted glare.

"Yeah, sure, that'd be great," Jillian said as they made their way over to Jared's car. He kissed Liza's forehead when she got close enough, flashed Jillian a friendly smile, then made his way to the other side of the car and hopped in the driver's seat. Liza's bag snagged on the door as she and Jillian climbed into the backseat, a few papers spilling out. She cursed and reached for them, but the wind whisked them away. She recognized one to be her permission slip for the upcoming Art fieldtrip, half filled out. She slumped back into the seat and slammed the door. Jared looked at her in the rear-view mirror, concerned, but she just waved him off.

"It's not important," she said. "Let's go, I don't wanna be late. Mr. Williams doesn't much care for tardiness," she said in a snooty, faux British accent. Jillian and Jared snorted. The car started with a shudder and a bang, and they rolled off down the street and took a right at the corner.

* * *

Depending on what one believes, there is a thing commonly referred to, vaguely, as either 'Fate' or 'Destiny.'

Depending on what one believes, these mysterious entities control the flow of life, the pattern of things, and regulate the paths to be presented and chosen.

Depending on what one believes, fate and destiny are to blame for the happenings of everything, everywhere, and are in charge of keeping things like us rowdy humans in check by making sure we end up where we're supposed to go.

Depending on what one believes.

Most people would have thought nothing of it, or simply thought it was coincidence. They probably wouldn't have even bothered to pick up the grubby scrap of paper that stuck to their shoe, much less read what it said.

Maxim Horvath didn't believe in coincidences.

He was of the firm belief that everything happened for a reason. Every action had a consequence, an equal and opposite reaction. Nothing was simply 'left to chance,' as some would say. There was always a higher purpose, a deeper meaning in almost everything. There certainly was in this.

He actually had to look again when he first saw it, not sure if his mind was playing tricks on him. It couldn't be. It couldn't possibly be. Could it?

Liza Veronica Stutler. That was the name staring back up at him in spidery handwriting, accompanied by a birthdate and a school grade. It was a permission slip from Washington Irving High School, apparently for a field trip to one of the local art galleries. He stared at it, then looked at the birthdate and calculated.

Yes… That was about right. It would make her seventeen. It had been nearly twenty years from that night in Battery Park, and Horvath very clearly remembered there being a normal human girl involved, David's girlfriend. His eyes narrowed. She'd probably become his wife. And this- this 'Liza,' could be their daughter.

The keyword in that thought was '_could_.' He grimaced.

Twenty years later, Maxim Horvath hadn't aged a day. Literally. For some reason, Merlin's anti-aging spell had failed to be lifted from him, probably due to his traitorous change of heart. He cursed Merlin daily. He'd been forty-eight for going on two thousand years now, and it was starting to get boring. As insane as it sounded, he missed aging. He missed waking up in the morning and groaning because there was another grey hair, or another pain in his back, or another new line on his face. He missed birthdays. No one had said happy birthday to him in a an extremely long time, and though he would never admit it, this saddened him.

There were, of course, upsides to not aging. If the spell had worn off, he'd be almost seventy now, physically at least, and that was an unpleasant thought. As it was, he was technically almost fifty, but that wasn't so bad. He didn't really look his age. His hair was still dark and thick, albeit his slightly receding hairline. His face was relatively unlined, aside from the crinkles around his eyes and the thought lines in his forehead. He considered himself to be rather good looking for a man pushing his second millennia.

But that wasn't important now. What _was_ important was the little slip of paper in his hand than had mysteriously attached itself to his shoe five minutes ago. Normally he would've just scraped it off with his walking stick and moved on, but something had made him stoop and pick it up, reading it. He was very glad he'd done so.

He had to find her. He had to know if she was who he thought she was. She was the proper age and had the proper name- two of them, actually. 'Veronica' seemed a little _too_ coincidental -and went to school here in New York. And of course, he just happened to be visiting on _this_ exact day, walking down _this_ exact street, at _this_ exact time. This was no random happening. He needed to know.

The school would be his first stop. He would get an address and her parents names, and then he could be sure. He didn't know what he planned to do if he was correct. He'd figure something out. He always did.


	3. Chaconne

**Title:** The Magical Education of Liza Stutler

**Author:** skarletfyre

**Rating:** M, for language, mature situations, drug content, underage drinking, possibly ideologically sensitive material, and all that crazy stuff I'm so fond of.

**Summary:** Twenty years later, Dave's falling apart. His teenage daughter is a loose cannon and knows nothing of magic, his wife is dead, his career is failing. Horvath chooses this of all times to make his grand reentrance, setting his sights on that which Dave treasures most.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own, nor am I affiliated with Sorcerer's Apprentice or Disney or any of it's associates. I'm also broke, so suing would be pointless.

**A/N:** Yes, the chapters are shorter than my last stories and have less to do with plot, but one again, I am building suspense and momentum. Everything (well, _almost_ everything) is important. Seek and you shall find.

* * *

Liza started taking violin lessons when she was seven years old. It was her father's way of trying to encourage her to express herself.

He'd hit gold.

Mr. Williams wasn't exactly overjoyed to see that she'd brought a friend, but she assured him that Jillian wouldn't cause any trouble, giving the short blonde girl a smirk and a wink. Jillian made an effort to keep extra quit and not make any noise. And she didn't. She just sat in the corner and watched, entranced.

Liza Stutler was a completely different person with an instrument in her hands. Her coarse exterior melted away to reveal the bare, honest truth of her being. Her long dark hair seemed to shine luridly in the poorly lighting, the natural reddish highlights standing out even more. Her skin almost glowed, her shimmering blue eyes closed in concentration. It wasn't so much a lesson as a private concert. Mr. Williams spent most of the time standing in front her, watching her hands, her face, her fingers, occasionally commenting or offering suggestions but mostly staying quiet. Liza didn't seem to even notice that he was there, so focused she was on her music.

The piece she played was one Jillian recognized right away, a favorite of hers since childhood and something that certainly suited Liza's personality: Bach's _Chaconne._

The last note died away hauntingly, leaving the small room in a heavy silence. Jillian had to resist the urge to clap.

"Very good. Very, very good," Mr. Williams said. Liza beamed at him, gently setting the violin and bow back in their case. She left her instrument there, in Mr. Williams' office instead of keeping it at home. It was too much of a hassle to lug it around with her anyways.

"Are you sure you want to keep coming back?" he asked her, raising a bushy white eyebrow at her. "You really don't need to. I'm surprised you even think you need lessons. You're a natural talent. I doubt that even my considerable expertise and guidance would be able to improve you very much."

Liza smirked at him, closing the case with a snap and tossing her hair back with a twitch her head..

"I'm sure," she said. "Besides, what would you do without me, Mr. Williams?"

"I'd feed my cats and play chess," he huffed, looking at her over the rims of his wire-framed glasses. She laughed and tucked the violin case safely away into a cubbyhole, then slung her book bag over her shoulder. Jillian stood up.

"See? You need me," Liza teased. He snorted and turned away, waving at the two girls dismissively.

"I suppose you'll be back at the usual time next week?" he said without looking at her. Liza nodded,

"Yup. See ya then. Good luck with the cats!"

Jillian wasn't sure if the old man was laughing or coughing as Liza dragged her out of the room and closed the door behind them. They didn't speak as they walked down the brightly lit corridor, or even when they got outside and caught the bus barely before it left. They rode the bus all ten minutes in silence as well.

Liza pulled the cord to signal she wanted to get off the buss, and they slowly pulled over to the curb. She smiled and thanked the bus driver, the signaled for Jillian to follow her off. As the bus drove off behind them, Jillian stared up in awe at the apartment building.

It was one of the cool old ones, made of brinks and mortar with gargoyle statues on the corners and the roof. It even had a doorman and everything. It totally looked like the kind of place she imagined Liza living in.

"C'mon," Liza said, smiling and extending her hand. Jillian took and smiled back. They headed for the door. Liza nodded and said hello to the doorman, who smiled politely at her and held the door open. They entered the plush lobby and made straight for the large elevator. Jillian began to feel slightly nervous.

"What about your dad?" she asked as Liza pressed the button for floor number seven. The dark haired beauty raised a sculpted eyebrow.

"What about him?" she said, leaning back against the elevator wall as it started up. Jillian shifted uncomfortably in place.

"I mean, he doesn't know, right? That you like girls, I mean."

Liza gave her a funny look.

"I don't like girls," she said calmly, causing Jillian's eyebrow to shoot up. "I like _you_," Liza followed up, grinning goofily. Jillian smirked. That sounded exactly like the bullshit Liza would come up with. But she didn't mind.

"Don't worry about my dad," Liza said reassuringly as the elevator dinged to a halt, the shiny doors sliding open smoothly. Jillian tried to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace. They stepped out of the elevator and out into the fancy hallway. Liza, as it turned out, lived with her father in the coveted corner apartment. She let herself in, shutting the door when Jillian was inside.

The place was nice, if a bit messy. A large black leather sofa took up most of the wall next to the door, and the wall across from it was dominated by the flat screen TV and stereo. A basket of clean laundry sat on the end of the couch, like it was waiting to be sorted and folded. To their right was the hallways and a spacious kitchen. The table was scattered haphazardly with what looked like graded essays and research papers. She remembered that Liza's dad was a professor at NYU, but she couldn't remember what subject he taught.

Liza tossed her bag on the couch and kicked off her shoes, motioning for Jillian to do the same, which she did.

"Want something to eat or drink?" Liza asked, spinning around towards the kitchen. Jillian smirked.

"Something to drink sounds nice. What do you got?"

"Grape juice, apple juice, orange juice, water, and milk," Liza rattled off without even opening the fridge. She turned back to Jillian with a mischievous expression on her pointed face. "I'd pass on the milk if I were you. We've had it for three months now. I don't think it's good anymore."

Jillian snorted.

"Apple juice then, if you don't mind."

"Whatever you like, m'dear," Liza snarked, spinning off over to the cupboard and retrieving two glasses and opening the fridge with her foot. She poured one glass of apple juice and another of grape juice, replaced the bottles, kicked the fridge shut, and set the glasses down on the table. She took a seat in the chair closest to the window, and Jillian sat across from her. She took a sip of apple juice and smile. Liza smiled back.

"Liza? Is that you I hear?"

"In the kitchen, Dad!" Liza shouted back, craning her neck slightly and looking down the hall. Jillian looked back behind her as a man appeared from the hallway, then stopped and stared at her.

He was tall and lanky with thinning dark hair and equally dark circles under his brown eyes. Liza's father. He crossed his arms and looked at Jillian.

"Hello there," he said politely, glancing at Liza.

"Hello," Jillian said meekly. Liza cleared her throat behind her.

"Dad, this is Jillian Marrows, a friend from school," she said calmly. "Jillian, this is my father, the infamous Professor David Stutler. You can call him Dave."

'Dave' glared at his daughter, then walked over and held out his hand to Jillian. She stood up and shook it, surprised by how tall he was. That's where Liza got it from then.

"Nice to meet you, Jillian," he said, his voice rather nasally and tired sounding. "My daughter has told me absolutely nothing about you. It's nice to meet someone normal looking for once."

Jillian could practically feel Liza's glare from behind her, but just smiled back.

"It's nice to meet you, too, Mr. Stutler," she said warmly, pointedly ignoring her instructions to call him Dave. He seemed to appreciate this, because he smirked. He let go of her hand and stepped back, leaning against the counter. She sat back down. Liza rested her chin in her hand and her elbow on the table, staring at her father with mild disdain.

"Don't you have a thing to be doing?" she snarked. "You know, somewhere else?"

He just stared at her.

"Liza, you're not being very polite. The last time you had a friend over was when you were eleven and it was your birthday. You bit them, remember? They left crying. I'm here to supervise. Hopefully this visit will end better."

Jillian turned to look at Liza with raised eyebrows.

"You bit a kid at your eleventh birthday party? Seriously?"

She could have sworn she saw a blush grace those fair cheeks she was so fond of kissing. Liza crossed her arms and sat back in her seat.

"She was trying to eat my cake," she said defensively, somehow managing to look both dignified and childish. Mr. Stutler snorted derisively.

"That's what birthday cake is for!" he cried, laughing slightly. "You're _supposed_ to share it."

"Well I didn't know that! I was eleven! Geez, get over it already…"

The rest of the visit went much the same way. If Jillian was expecting it to be all snuggly and cozy with Liza, she was sorely disappointed. Liza's father dominated their time together, regaling Jillian with embarrassing stories from her lover's past, most of them involving hilarity and violence of some sort. It was quite entertaining.

Jillian's cell phone rang at quarter to six, her mother wanting to know if she'd be home for dinner. Before she could answer, Liza grabbed her phone and flawlessly mimicked her voice, telling Mrs. Marrows that she was staying the night at a friends and would be home the next morning. She even ended the call with a cheerful 'Love you too, mom!' before clicking the phone shut and tossing it back to Jillian, who gaped open mouthed at her. Dave frowned.

"I don't remember okaying a sleepover," he said, raising an eyebrow. Liza gave him a snotty, slightly devious look.

"I didn't say we were sleeping here."

Her meaning was plain. Understanding flashed in her father's brown eyes, then anger, and finally resignation. He stood up from his seat at the table and started to walk back down the hallway. He stopped and turned.

"Be careful, Liza. Please, for my sake."

The tenderness in his voice seemed to surprise his daughter. All the mischief drained from her eyes, replaced by something Jillian thought was alarmingly similar to shame. She looked down and swallowed. Mr. Stutler sighed.

"I suppose I have to cook now, don't I?"


	4. Ring A Ling

**Title:** The Magical Education of Liza Stutler

**Author:** skarletfyre

**Rating:** M, for language, mature situations, drug content, underage drinking, possibly ideologically sensitive material, and all that crazy stuff I'm so fond of.

**Summary:** Twenty years later, Dave's falling apart. His teenage daughter is a loose cannon and knows nothing of magic, his wife is dead, his career is failing. Horvath chooses this of all times to make his grand reentrance, setting his sights on that which Dave treasures most.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own, nor am I affiliated with Sorcerer's Apprentice or Disney or any of it's associates. I'm also broke, so suing would be pointless.

**A/N:** I know generally where I'm going with this. I know it's slow. Bear with me, please, I'm getting there. Rushing would ruin it.

* * *

Much to Dave's surprise, it was Liza who cooked dinner for the three of them, something she rarely did anymore. Of course, it was only out-of-the-package Hamburger Helper, but it was still pretty delicious. Mr. Stutler actually snorted when Jillian offered to help with the dishes, earning himself a glare from Liza.

After stacking the plates and silverware in the sink to be cleaned later, Liza grabbed Jillian's arm and dragged her off down the hall, snatching their schoolbags on the way, and wrenched open the door at the far end.

Liza's room was almost exactly as Jillian had imagined it.

Bed unmade, laundry strewn everywhere, papers and trash crumpled up and sitting within inches of the garbage can… The whole place was a mess. Aside from the bookshelves, of course.

Jillian counted three around the room, all of them overflowing with books of fantasy and magic. _Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter, Dragonlance, The Demonata, Cirque du Freak, The Enchanted Forest Chronicles, The Merlin Trilogy, The Young Wizards _series_, The Chronicles of Narnia, Blood and Chocolate, The Arthurian Saga_, etc. The only absent, rather conspicuously to Jillian's mind, was the _Twilight_ saga. The bottom two shelves of the largest bookcase were reserved for her DVD's, the most prominent of which were a collection of foreign horror movies. Everything was alphabetized and organized, she assumed, according to Liza's preferences and tastes. The shelves seemed to be the most well-maintained thing in the whole room.

Liza tossed the bags onto the floor and back-flopped onto her bed, bouncing slightly. She had a ridiculously fluffy purple comforter thrown atop the blankets, and it swallowed her as she gathered it around herself and formed a little cocoon. She flipped part of it up over her head like a hood and grinned leeringly at Jillian. She stuck a hand out and made a beckoning motion.

"Come hither, little child," she said in a creepy old lady voice. "I have a tasty treat for you, my dear."

Jillian raised an eyebrow at her friend's antics, then took a hesitant step forward. As soon as she was in range, Liza lunged and grabbed her arm, dragging her down onto the bed and wrapping her in the fluffy monster blanket. She then crawled on top of her and pinned her arms above her head. Her long hair fell forward into Jillian's face, making her sneeze. Liza laughed and kissed her. There was a knock on the door.

"Don't come in, we're having an orgy!" Liza screamed, still pinning Jillian under the blanket. There was a moment of silence, then the sound of footsteps padding away down the hall. Jillian burst out laughing.

"What the hell was that?" she asked, trying to wriggle her way out from under the crazy girl on top of her. It didn't work, and if anything the grip on her wrists only tightened. Liza smirked.

"Preventative measures that we won't be interrupted," she said, leaning down and letting her breath wash over Jillian's throat. The smaller girl shuddered and closed her eyes.

"What exactly are we preventing being interrupted in the middle of doing?" she nearly whispered. She felt Liza draw back and open her eyes. Blue and hazel locked for a moment, the lighter pair practically sparkling with laughter.

"Our _homework_, of course!" Liza said, releasing Jillian and practically flipping off the bed. Jillian lay under the covers for a moment, confused, then disappointed. She heard the sound of something being unzipped and then the shuffling of papers. There was a soft 'thump' from somewhere near her feet. Curious she sat up and pulled the down the covers, staring incredulously at the sight that met her.

Liza was sitting near the end of the bed, criss-cross-applesauce on the floor, notebook in her lap and pencil in her hand. She was, indeed, doing her homework. She looked up as Jillian climbed off the bed, standing up to peruse the bookshelves more thoroughly. One title caught her eye immediately.

"_Lady Cottington's Pressed Fairy Book_?" she read aloud, skepticism in her voice. She looked at Liza, silently asking for permission, and then pulled in carefully off the shelf and flipped it open.

The first page she flipped, somewhere near the middle of the book, contained an obviously hand drawn sketch of a woman's face, scrunched up and squished as through it pressed against a window, hand held up in a mock defensive gesture. Her wild hair was inky black and poorly drawn, basic iridescent wings sprouted from her back, too small to be of any use, the rest of her body disappearing off the side of the page in an attempt to make it look 'authentic.' The page next to it was filled with scratchy handwriting, stained in the background, supposedly with 'fairy guts.' She glanced over at Liza with a raised eyebrow.

"Where the hell do you find these things?" she asked, showing her the book. Liza looked up from her paper, the end of the pencil in her mouth where she'd been gnawing on it. She looked at the book and grinned, the pencil making her look like a demented walrus.

"Barnes and Nobles," she said simply, lisping slightly. Jillian just rolled her eyes and replaced the book on the shelf, continuing her examination. The next thing to catch her attention was a rather large red book made of thick paper, the spine of which in gold lettering '_Dragonolgy_.' She wasn't quite sure what to make of that one. Next to it sat the rest of the '-_ology_' collection. _Wizardology, Piratology, Egyptology… _They all looked liked she'd found them in the children's section, which she probably had. Jillian plucked _Dragonolgy_ off the shelf and opened it.

Inlaid into the paper was a small clear plastic pouch containing what looked like red and purple glitter, the cheap kind from department stores. It was labeled as 'Dragon Dust.' She snorted.

"You don't actually believe all of this, do you?" she asked, looking over at the dark haired girl on the floor. Liza looked up at what she was reading, then gave her a crooked smile.

"I was a die-hard dragon fanatic when I was little," she said. "I actually used to try and follow the directions exactly in hopes that one day I would become a Dragon Master. It never worked, but who knows? Maybe I was just doing it wrong."

Jillian smirked and closed the book, tucking it back into place and moving to a different bookshelf. The top row was completely dominated by the Harry Potter series, all hardcover, including _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_. Jillian made to reach for it, but Liza's noise of protest stopped her.

"Huh uh!" she said, shifting her position slightly. "Nobody touches my HP books but me! Those are all signed by J.K. Rowling and probably worth a bit of money, so if you mess them up I will kill you. Seriously. No touchy."

Jillian slowly withdrew her hand, deciding she'd best move on to other shelves. Liza went back to her homework.

"Do you really think it's real?" she asked a few minutes later, having looked at every shelf and title. Liza looked at her, confused. "Magic, I mean. Do you really believe in it?"

"Absolutely," Liza said without hesitating. "Why? Don't you?"

Jillian shrugged.

"I dunno. I mean, I've always kept an open mind about it, but I'm eighteen now. I don't have time to go off chasing fairies and playing dress up anymore. It's not like anything magical has ever happened to me."

"Yet," Liza said from the floor. "Nothing has happened _yet_. That's what I keep telling myself."

"Why? Why do you put so much effort into waiting for something that might never happen?"

Liza shrugged.

"It gives me a reason to get up in the morning, ya know? To think that maybe _this_ will be the day I see a fairy, or meet a wizard, or discover that I'm actually the heir to a massive fortune and the princess of some far away land. Don't look at me like that, I know how it sounds," she said, looking a little hurt. Jillian's expression softened immediately. Liza looked down, fiddling with the spiral holding her notebook together.

"Besides, how can it _not_ be real?" she said quietly. "I mean, if you look back through history, _every single culture_ has some form of magic intertwined into their way of life. They had shamans, medicine men, oracles, gods, goddesses, the friendly neighborhood wizard, the evil sorceress… I mean, think about it, Jilli Bean." Jillian noted the use of her pet name. Liza was really serious about this, then. The blue-eyed beauty continued. "It's the same with dragons, and fairies or sprites or other magical creatures. They're _everywhere_! How can it possibly _all_ be fake?"

Jillian thought about it for a moment, then shook her head and looked down.

"I dunno, Liza.," she said quietly. "I guess I'll believe it when I see it. It all just seems a little… unreal, ya know? And if it is real, then why is it hidden?"

"Because humans, being the stupid apes that we are, fear what we don't understand, and then destroy what we fear," Liza snapped, her voice surprisingly harsh. Seeing Jillian's hurt look, her expression became sheepish.

"Sorry. I just don't like idiocy. You may have noticed."

Jillian couldn't help but smile. She knew very well that Liza Stutler didn't not suffer fools in any sense of the word. Her biting comments could be heard in every classroom whenever a fellow student would make a particularly dim-witted comment, or ask a question to which the answer was painfully obvious. Needless to say, she wasn't very popular, even though most of the teachers just loved her. The exception was Mr. Froud, their geometry teacher, but then again he didn't really like anybody.

"Yeah, I figured that out all by myself, thanks," Jillian snarked, walking over and plopping down on the end of the bed next to Liza. She grabbed her backpack and dragged it towards her, pulling out her own homework. She groaned at the work, hating Ms. Neveu and her obsession with torturing those simple-minded English speakers. French was Jillian's worst subject. Liza noticed what she was working on and smirked.

"Want me to do it for you?" she asked, grinning wickedly. Jillian glared at her.

"No," she snapped half-heartedly. "I would rather get a C on my own than an A with your 'help.' I don't cheat, Lizzy," she said, using the nickname that Liza detested an earning herself a scalding glare. She just laughed.

* * *

Listening from outside the door, Dave was deep in thought.

No matter what he did, he couldn't sway Liza's interest in all things magical. He'd given her history books, made her watch Discovery Channel when she was little instead of shows like '_W.I.N.X. Club_' and '_Dragon Tales_,' but nothing had worked. Her interest in it had only grown, and it made his heart ache. This was not the life he wanted for his daughter.

She showed no signs of giving it up, either, even though her eighteenth birthday was fast approaching. Two more months and his little girl would be lost forever, a legal adult. She'd probably want to move out and have nothing to do with him. He swallowed hard at the thought.

He would have to tell her before then. All about magic and who he really was. Who _she_ really was. He deserved top give her that much.

But he was afraid. Afraid of what she might think of him, of herself. What she might turn into. Perhaps if he hadn't waited so long things would be different. Easier. But as they were now, he didn't think he could do it by himself. He _knew_ he couldn't. He needed help. And there was only one person he could get it from.

He padded silently back down the hall and into the kitchen, picking up the phone from it's hanging on the wall. He hated this phone, because it was ridiculously over complicated. Phones should be for phone calls, he didn't need to access the internet through it. That's what he had a computer for. But times had changed drastically in twenty years, and not necessarily for the better.

He hesitated for a long moment, then held the receiver up to his ears and punched in the number he would never forget no matter how hard he tried. The phone rang three times before it was picked up.

"Hello?"


	5. Discoveries Are Fun

**Title:** The Magical Education of Liza Stutler

**Author:** skarletfyre

**Rating:** M, for language, mature situations, drug content, underage drinking, possibly ideologically sensitive material, and all that crazy stuff I'm so fond of.

**Summary:** Twenty years later, Dave's falling apart. His teenage daughter is a loose cannon and knows nothing of magic, his wife is dead, his career is failing. Horvath chooses this of all times to make his grand reentrance, setting his sights on that which Dave treasures most.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own, nor am I affiliated with Sorcerer's Apprentice or Disney or any of it's associates. I'm also broke, so suing would be pointless.

**A/N:** I've discovered my writing secret: I cannot plan stuff out and then write it, I have to make it up as I go along. If I don't it just burns out and comes out as crap. Whatever. I'll update as soon as I feel like it. Cheers. Also, I would like to apologize in advance if I offend anyone with my use of the 'other F word.'

* * *

Horvath found it abysmally easy to gain access of the girl's school records. They practically handed it to him as soon as he said he was a social worker and flashed a vague looking identification card at the lady in the school office.

It was a gamble, he knew that. The girl might be a socially healthy, well adjusted teenager with no record whatsoever of mental illness, and then he would be right back where he started until another staff member came into the office. However, his bet had paid off. She wasn't exactly socially healthy or well-adjusted by any standards, and there was mention of psychiatric care in her file, which he was currently perusing leisurely in his hotel room.

He found it peculiar that only one parent was listed, but that one parent was enough to confirm his suspicions. This mysterious girl was the daughter of David Stutler, the Prime Merlinian, the man who once upon a time had made his life unnecessarily complicated and annoying. Apparently was now an Advanced Physics professor at New York University. Horvath remembered the subway turn around station and the lab, practically humming with electricity from all the Tesla coils. He snorted softly to himself, taking a sip of tea and examining the girl's photograph.

She was actually quite attractive, which she must have gotten from her mother. He assumed that David had ended up marrying that little blonde thing he'd had Abigail kidnap for ransom. What was her name… Brenda? Brandy? No, Becky. Yes, that's right, it was Becky. He'd never bothered to find out her last name. It was irrelevant. But the girl certainly did look like her, especially the eyes. Of course, hers weren't filled with terror and confusion as her mother's had been when he'd met her. She had her father's hair, though. So dark a brown that it was almost black, thick and wavy and probably a hassle to deal with the mornings. If the picture was taken recently, it hung just below her shoulders.

Horvath wondered if she was a sorceress, if her father had bothered to tell her about magic. He probably had. It was only logical. But in the very small off-chance that he hadn't, then Horvath needed to find a way to get to her before her father could explain it.

And then there was the threat of Balthazar lurking around, with Veronica in tow. The anti-aging spells had probably been broken on them, placing them, physically, in their mid to late sixties, which he found significantly less intimidating than if they were middle aged. Of course he knew not to underestimate age. Merlin, the most powerful sorcerer in the history of the world no matter what anybody said, had been in his late seventies (physically, of course. No one really knew Merlin's true age.) in his final battle with Morgana, who was at least almost as old. The older a sorcerer was, usually the more powerful. The question was of agility and stamina. Horvath would outrank them in both categories.

But he was getting too far ahead of himself. First things first. He needed to find the girl, Liza, and establish whether or not she knew any magic. If not, then he would come up with a cunning plan to approach her and work his way into her life, and then inform her of her true calling. If she was already trained, however, then he would have to destroy her.

He grinned wickedly to himself. That ought to break David's little Merlinian heart to pieces…

He glanced at his pocket watch and cursed. Her school would be getting out in a few minutes. He needed to be there in order to follow her, find out her routine. He stood up and set the file aside, tucking his watch back into his breast pocket.

Horvath's fashion sense hadn't much changed. He still preferred the dapper and prestigious over the cheap and 'hip' look, which occasionally drew unwanted attention to him on the street. He couldn't count the number of times people had tried to mug him, only to discover that they'd picked a very bad person to mess with. Hopefully he'd scared some of the little buggers into taking up a more honorable profession than pick-pocketing.

He'd gotten rid of the fur coat many years ago, despite how comfortable it was. It was just too high profile for the times, as was the hat. Much to his dismay, no one seemed to wear hats anymore. He liked hats. But he needed to blend in as much as he could, so he'd gotten rid of that too. The cane remained out of necessity, thought it, too, was a bit of an attention getter. Unfortunately, he couldn't think of anything else to modify it into that was large enough to house the blue crystal that he used to focus his energy. Nothing useful that could be considered an everyday object, at least. At least with the cane he could always fake a limp if need be.

His shoes were black leather wing-tips, and had cost a pretty penny. While six hundred dollars was but a trifle to him, it had taken a chunk out his pocket change. Money seemed to buy less and less as each year slid by. Then again, this was of no concern to him. He'd amassed several massive fortunes in his lifetime, hidden away in ancient vaults and more modern offshore accounts, sitting there and earning interest. It was a good system, and it worked.

But enough about that. He was needed at the school, which was only a five minute walk away. He grabbed his walking stick, tugged on his heavy black jacket against the February chill, and exited the swanky hotel room.

* * *

Liza was in a very bad mood by the time the school day was over.

She had at least an hour of homework for each class, some of which was due the next day. Mr. Froud had taken it upon himself to confiscate her phone, which accidentally slipped out of her bag, and send her to the office for disrupting class when she protested. Ms. Neveu was out sick, and their substitute French teacher was a complete idiot who had no mastery of the language whatsoever. To top it all off, their Health teacher decided that today would be a good day to bring up homosexual relationships. All eyes in the class had immediately turned to Jillian and Liza, much to their annoyance. They weren't even technically a couple. If anything could describe their relationship it was the phrase from _Juno_: part time lovers and full time friends. The rest of the class period, they'd had to deal with lewd hand gestures and crass whispered comments. All in all, the day was shitty.

Tyshaun and Darrel weren't making it any better. They were the same boys who'd been bothering her the day before, but now they were just being assholes. Jostling her, shouting after her as she tried to walk down the hall and get outside. Hopefully Jared would be waiting for her, but it was never a guarantee. She could hear the boys behind her, catching up, and tried to force her way through a particularly stubborn pack of freshmen.

"Hey, baby, where you goin'?"

Tyshaun wound his arm tightly around her waist, trying to kiss her. She shoved him away in disgust and pushed her way out the doors. Darrel caught up with her. A few people glanced nervously around as the two boys cornered her, leering and commenting. She swatted their hands away as they herded her back next the building, out of the way of the fleeing students. Liza glanced around for a friendly face, but Jillian was nowhere in sight. Dammit.

"I asked you a question, bitch. Where you goin'?" Tyshaun repeated. She glared hatefully at him, trying to sick farther into the wall.

"None of your fucking business," she said venomously, spitting at him. He took a step back and grabbed his cheek.

"Augh! Fuckin' faggot!"

Liza wasn't sure if it was the insult itself that set her off, or just that fact that she really, really hated him today. Before she even knew what she was doing, she swung her hand up and slammed her fist against the side of his head, hitting him in the ear. He howled in pain and staggered back, clutching his head. Darrel moved in, cracking the back of his hand across her face. She yelped and fell back against the wall, but recovered quickly and kicked out with her right foot, catching him in the groin. He crumpled to the ground in front of her. By this time people had noticed what was going on and had started to gather around in a circle. She barely had time to duck as Tyshaun's fist smashed through the air where her face had been. It connected with the brick building behind her with a sickening crunch. She scrambled to her feet and ran out of their reach. Darrel was still rolling around on the ground, wailing in pain and holding his crotch. She tasted blood in her mouth and spit.

"What the hell is going on out here?"

Everyone looked up as the principal appeared in the doorway, attracted by all the shouting. Most of the kids scrambled to get on the bus and away from her, but some stayed behind to watch. Mrs. Abrams' hawk like eyes feel instantly on Liza and narrowed.

"Miss Stutler, get over this instant!"

Liza tossed her head back to get the hair out of her eyes, sticking out her chin and glaring the at the older woman. She glanced back at the two boys, both of whom were bloodied and whimpering in pain, then trudged grudgingly over the stairs again and looked up at Mrs. Abrams. The older woman crossed her arms and glared down at her.

"Would you mind explaining to me what just happened, Miss Stutler?"

"Psycho bitch fuckin' hit me!" Tyshaun yelled from a few feet away, cradling his probably broken hand against his chest. Mrs. Abrams looked at him, and Darrel on the ground behind him, then looked skeptically back to Liza.

"Mr. Milton, are you telling me that Miss Stutler here single handedly took down not only yourself, but Mr. Rycher as well?"

"I just fuckin' said that! Damn!"

"Watch your language, young man," Mrs. Abrams snapped, then turned back to Liza.

"Is that true, Miss Stutler?"

"Yes, ma'am," Liza said without hesitation, smirking slightly. She liked Mrs. Abrams. Apparently Mrs. Abrams liked her too, because instead of yelling or taking to the office, she just smiled at her.

"I'm going to assume the attack was provoked?"

"Yes, ma'am," Liza repeated, liking where this was going. Mrs. Abrams crossed her arms and thought about it for a moment, then nodded.

"Good for you. You can leave, Liza, but I'm still going to have to call your father. Have a good afternoon and I'll see you tomorrow. Mr. Milton, Mr. Rycher, would you come with me please?"

Liza grinned and turned around, listening to the boys angry protests behind her. She glanced around for Jared's car, but he was nowhere in sight. She started when someone tapped her on the shoulder and spun around.

It was just Jillian, grinning at her.

"Damn, you're sexy when you're mad," the shorter girl said. Liza's grinned widened as she reached out a hand, pulling Jillian closer for warmth, sticking a hand in her coat pocket. It was cold as shit out, and she'd forgotten her gloves at home.

"I'm _always_ sexy," she said, leaning forward to plant a gentle kiss on the blonde girl's pouty lips. They walked off arm-in-arm down the sidewalk, heading for the nearby coffee shop.

Neither of the girls noticed the well dressed heavy-set man watching them with raised eyebrows, and then following behind them at a safe distance.


	6. Do You Believe In Maaaagic?

**Title:** The Magical Education of Liza Stutler

**Author:** skarletfyre

**Rating:** M, for language, mature situations, drug content, underage drinking, possibly ideologically sensitive material, and all that crazy stuff I'm so fond of.

**Summary:** Twenty years later, Dave's falling apart. His teenage daughter is a loose cannon and knows nothing of magic, his wife is dead, his career is failing. Horvath chooses this of all times to make his grand reentrance, setting his sights on that which Dave treasures most.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own, nor am I affiliated with Sorcerer's Apprentice or Disney or any of it's associates. I'm also broke, so suing would be pointless.

**A/N:** Okay, yes. I sort of copied the 'First Encounter' scene from my first SA fic, but _whatever_. I only did it because it _works_, alright? If I could think of something else, trust me, I'd do that. Until then… viola. This is what I come up with.

* * *

"What the hell happened to you?"

Liza glanced up at her father as she shrugged off her jacket, tossing it carelessly onto the sofa and kicking off her shoes. He was, of course, referring to the large bruise on her face where Darrel had struck her. It throbbed painfully in phantom memory.

"Check your voicemail," she mumbled, crossing to the refrigerator and grabbing a jar of pickles. They were her comfort food of choice. She tried to leave, to go to her own room, but her dad splayed himself across the kitchen doorway and blocked her exit. She glared at him, but he just glared right back.

"Liza Veronica," he began sternly. Liza flinched at the use of her dreaded middle name. "You are not going anywhere, or eating a single pickle, until you tell me exactly what happened, starting with who hit you."

"Who said anyone hit me?" she snapped, trying to push past him. He blocked her again, arms spread on either side of him.

"That handprint bruised into your cheek helped me figure it out. Now who's ass do I have to go out and kick for hurting my little girl?"

Dave realized the words as they flew out of his mouth. Liza's eyes widened in surprise, then amusement. Her father almost never swore, even when the two of them were seconds away from strangling each other in frustration, he still stuck to phrases like 'gosh dangit' and 'by golly.' His breaking the profanity code was testament to his paternal nature. Her eyes softened slightly.

"Don't worry, Daddy," she said softly, not having called him that in a very long time. "I already did that. There should be a message from the school on the machine, alright? Now can I please go to room?"

Dave stared intently at her for a moment, then sighed in resignation and stepped aside. He placed a hand on her shoulder as she passed.

"Let's not make this a habit, alright?"

She smiled tightly at him.

"Alright."

* * *

Horvath had been following Liza for going on three weeks. After carefully observing her almost every movement for about eighteen days, he had happily arrived at the conclusion that she was blissfully ignorant of magic and it's existence.

She showed no signs whatsoever of possessing magical abilities, nor did she appear to be wearing or holding an energy channel. He was positive that David had kept her in the dark about his true identity. Why, however, he had no idea.

He'd seen Dave a few times, leaving for work in the morning or coming home in the evenings. It was remarkable how he'd aged. He was much thinner now, though he had developed a bit of a paunch. His hair was thinning as well, and turning rather grey around the temples for a man his age. He could only be in his early forties, after all. Hmm… Oh well. Another thing Horvath noticed was that there was no sign of his having a wife or girlfriend. He came to the conclusion that Liza's mother had either died or left them. Awful as it sounded, he rather hoped she was dead. It would give him yet another card to play against the girl.

And then, of course, there was that little blonde thing she was always flouncing about with. Jillian, he thought her name was. He'd studied the relationship between them carefully, and determined that it consisted of much more than friendship. This came as something of a shock to him. In his day, such things were considered blasphemous and would have resulted in, at the very least, exile. The very worst was something he didn't want to think about. In today's society, however, it was considered perfectly normal. And who was he to judge? Besides, the blonde girl could be used against Liza, if it ever came to that. All in all, he was all set for the blackmail of the century.

Once thing that Horvath had also been paying careful attention to was where she went after school and on the weekends. The only thing that he would even possibly consider to be a pattern was that every Wednesday after school, she either rode with a multi- pierced and tattooed older boy or took the bus to a small, one-story office building. She'd go in and spend at least twenty minutes doing gods-know-what inside, then come out and go on her merry way. He had no idea what she was doing in there, but he had a feeling that it might be important.

Hence his current position of lurking creepily around the corner of the building, waiting for her to show up and go inside and then following her before she got too far.

He had discovered, much to his dismay, that the building had an automatic lock on the door, and one had to 'buzzed' inside. She would press a button, speak a few words into a microphone, then yank open the door. If he could get in before the doors closed, he might have a chance to see what she got up to in there.

Horvath quickly ducked back behind the corner as her bus pulled up, letting her off at the stop. She waved back and smiled at the bus driver, a rather dazzling smile if he was one to judge. As the bus drove away, she took a moment to tuck her dark hair behind her ears, straighten her shirt, and adjust the strap of the ratty messenger bag hanging from her shoulder before heading inside. Just as she was pulling the door open, Horvath made his move.

"Excuse me, miss, could you hold the door please?"

She reached back and held the door just before it shut, glancing at him as he hurried over. He smiled gratefully at her.

"Thank you very much," he said. She smiled kindly at him.

"No problem."

He tried to find some excuse for him to be there while at the same time observing her progress down the hall. She came to a door, knocked twice, then roughly opened it and pushed her way inside. The entire building suddenly seemed eerily quiet.

Horvath had been standing around the lobby like an idiot for almost ten minutes before he heard it.

Music.

He recognized it at once to be Chausson's_ Poeme_. The piano started it off, slow and solemn. It was a tune he knew very well.

He advanced slowly down the hall towards where she'd gone, the music steadily growing louder as he went. He stopped outside the door and listened. His dark eyes closed as the violin began to play, sad and haunting. The playing itself was beautiful. It wasn't any of that power-playing, where every chord was ripped forcefully from the instrument and thrust out into the surrounding air. No, this was more sensitive, more moving. The two instruments intertwined and completed each other perfectly.

He carefully leaned in, peering in through the small Plexiglas window in the door.

The girl stood in the middle of the room, violin in hand, face contorted into such a look of passionate concentration that Horvath himself felt touched. A man resembling Santa Clause sat behind her at the piano, this thick fingers dancing slowly over the keys. The two seemed an unlikely pair to play together, but the music they created was superb.

Horvath had a soft spot for classical music, a dying trait in this eternally modernizing world. He detested the throbbing bass and crass rhythms of today's 'music,' disgusted by the over-grown children who think themselves an artist because they can make a few words rhyme and put them to music. There was nothing remotely musical about what they did. The words were often harsh and degrading, more often than not downright violent in nature. Music should not be violent, at least not to Horvath's mind. It should soothe the soul and caress the spirit, letting the listener's mind unwind and relax.

As this beautiful piece of music was doing to Horvath now.

He felt a calmness settle over him as the last notes of the song worked their way through the flimsy plywood door to his ears, dying away as she drew the bow across the strings for the final time. He quickly ducked away from the window as she lowered her instrument, letting it rest gently by her side. She turned to the piano man and said something that made him laugh, but Horvath couldn't understand what it was. He looked in again, cautiously, and watched her carefully place the violin and bow back in their battered case, then shove said case into a cubbyhole in the far wall. The old man with her stood up slowly, saying something else to her. She grinned and gathered her bag.

Horvath's eyes widened as she headed for the door, and he quickly ducked away and back towards the lobby. However, she moved entirely too fast for his liking, and was opening the door before he was even halfway down the hall. She closed it quietly, then turned and looked at him, confused. He forced a charming smile, making up something on the spot.

"Excuse me, miss, but was that you playing in there?"

"Um, yeah," she said, looking a little nervous. She tightened her grip on her bag and gave him the once over. "Why do you ask?"

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to sound strange, but I overheard your music and was so enchanted that I've completely missed my appointment. Were you the piano or the violin?"

"Violin," she said, caution in her blue eyes. He felt a twinge of irritation. For a girl who got in fights outside of school and seemingly slept with anything that moved, she was remarkably paranoid. He tried to compose his features into something not-at-all-threatening.

"Ahh, I thought you might. You play very beautifully, if I may say so. Have you been playing long?"

He knew exactly how weird he sounded, he didn't need that look on her face to confirm it. She swallowed and glanced at the door. He had to act fast, figure out a way to… to… He didn't know what he was going to do. He should have waited. Damn it. Too late now.

"Um, since I was seven," she said carefully, still looking at him strangely. He was mentally slapping himself for being such a fucking idiot as to have approached her unprepared, but he hadn't really had a choice. He struggled to formulate a follow up, and was then struck with an idea. He nodded thoughtfully.

"I see, I see. That sounded like a Faruolo. Was it?"

"Frirsz, actually," she corrected, and he was pleased to see a spark of interest in her eyes. "Do you play?" she asked, regarding him carefully. He smiled tightly and looked down thoughtfully, play-acting in a way he'd perfected over centuries.

"Oh, not for a very long time. A very, very long time," he said softly, and it wasn't a lie. He had played, briefly, in the 20's, but not professionally. She tilted her head to the side. He pretended to hesitate for a moment.

"I'm sorry, this is going to sound very odd, but may I show you something? It will only take a moment," he added, seeing the caution back in her eyes. "Please, Judging by the way you played Chausson's_ Poeme_, I think that you of all people would be able to appreciate it."

He tried not to let his annoyance show when she took an uncertain step backwards. She looked as though she were deliberating with herself. He could see it in her face, and for a moment was afraid that he'd blown his chance and was going to have to do thing the hard way. However, after a moments time, something akin to determination settled in her eyes. She took a deep breath, then nodded.

"Yeah, alright. But I'm kind of in a hurry, I need to get home."

Horvath gave her a smile that wasn't entirely false. He knew for a fact that she had no intention of going home after her lesson, and hopefully would have even less intention of doing so after he was through talking to her. If everything went according to plan, of course…

"I assure you, it should only take a moment or two. Here, it's down this way."

He walked off down the hallway she'd just come from and picked a random door, hoping beyond hope that it was empty, and stealthily unlocked it with a flick of his walking stick. He carefully opened the door, flicked on the light, and peered inside. He was in luck. The place looked like it hadn't been used for business in quite some time, but it wasn't completely barren. There was a filing cabinet against the far wall. He turned his focus on this.

"Wait here for a moment, if you please," he said, glancing back at her. She nodded, watching curiously as he crossed the room to the cabinet, opening each drawer and peering inside. It was in the second drawer to the bottom that he struck gold: a large lock box. He quickly transformed this into an old looking violin case and opened it, reconfiguring its contents. Once he was satisfied, he picked the thing up and turned to face her, holding it carefully. Now, finally, there was a true spark of interest in her periwinkle eyes. If he could pull this off correctly, he'd have her in the palm of his hand…

He set the case down on the dusty desk also left in the room, gesturing for her to come over. She did so slowly, glancing between him and the box in curiosity and confusion. He stepped to the side slightly so she could see better, then slowly and deliberately opened the case.

Her eyes grew as wide as dinner plates. She stared at the cases contents, then turned to him, her mouth opening but not words coming out. She tried again.

"Is- is that seriously what I think it is?"

Horvath couldn't help smirking at her wide-eyed fascination. He composed himself quickly.

"That all depends. If you think it is an original 1747 Stradivarius violin, then yes, it is what you think it is."

Liza actually took a step back in surprise as she stared at the thing. He thought she might faint, and so hesitantly reached out a hand, not touching her.

"It's alright, I'm fine," she said, looking at him in wonder. "Sorry, I just… Wow. Where the hell did you get it?"

He chuckled slightly.

"It was a family heirloom. I got it from my grandfather, and he got it from his. Strangely, it never gets passed down to sons, only grandsons. Then again, my family has always been strange."

She smirked at him slightly, then looked back to the violin and went silent. He tilted his head to the side.

"You can touch it, if you'd like. I used to play it all the time when I was a boy, so I don't think you're going to hurt it."

The expression on her face was almost fearful, but her eyes were filled a sort of hope and amazement the likes of which Horvath hadn't witnessed in a very log time. It was almost amusing. She looked at him for a moment, then back to the violin.

"Are- are you sure? Seriously?"

"Of course! You don't seem like the type of person who goes around breaking things just for the fun of it. And I suppose it _is_ a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Go ahead."

She looked at him for a moment longer, then hesitantly reached out a hand, which was trembling slightly, and laid her fingertips gently on the scroll. Slowly and reverently, she dragged them down over the peg box and the strings. Horvath watched carefully, taking a tighter grip on his walking stick, waiting for the opportune moment. He spotted it.

Just as her hand was passing over the bridge, he flicked his cane. The bridge snapped off.

She looked as though her heart stopped beating in her chest.

Her hand shot back and she clutched it to her chest, letting out a sharp gasp that sounded like she'd just expelled all air from her lungs. She looked fearfully at Horvath, a horrorstricken look on her face.

"Oh my god… I am so sorry, I didn't mean- Oh fuck. Shit, I'm _so_ sorry, I can pay for the damages and repairs, I didn't mean-"

Horvath raised a hand, smiling at her.

"Don't worry about it, Miss Stutler, it's quite alright."

"Seriously, I'll pay for whatever needs to b-"

She stopped suddenly and looked at him, confusion and mistrust in her eyes.

"Um, how did you-"

"Do you believe in magic, Miss Stutler?" Horvath asked, cutting her off. He raised his walking stick ever so slightly, causing the door to slowly close and lock behind her. She didn't notice because she was staring at him uncertainly.

"I don't understand. What are you-"

"Look at the violin," he told her, gesturing to the instrument. She furrowed her brow at him, then slowly slid her sky colored eyes back to the desk. Horvath hesitated a moment, making sure she was paying attention, then raised his walking stick and pointed it at the violin. The blue gem on the tip glowed brightly.

* * *

Liza stared in amazement as the broken bridge mended itself, sticking back on the body of the Stradivarius as thought it had always been there. She glanced at the strange man next to her and swallowed. He raised an eyebrow at her, then gestured for her to keep watching. She swallowed again and looked back.

Before her ever-widening eyes, the violin transformed itself into a pile of pens and paper-clips, along with a small cartridge. The case surrounding it changed, too, morphing from ancient black leather into a sleek metal box, obviously meant to be used for storing important items. But not violins. She turned slowly to look back at the man, who was staring at her intently. She licked her lips nervously.

"How- how did you do that?" she managed to stutter out, her voice trembling. He smiled at her, his dark eyes seeming to bore straight into her soul.

"I already told you, Miss Stutler," he said softly, the head of his cane glowing brightly once more as he raised it to eye level.

"Magic."


	7. The Offer of a Lifetime

**Title:** The Magical Education of Liza Stutler

**Author:** skarletfyre

**Rating:** M, for language, mature situations, drug content, underage drinking, possibly ideologically sensitive material, and all that crazy stuff I'm so fond of.

**Summary:** Twenty years later, Dave's falling apart. His teenage daughter is a loose cannon and knows nothing of magic, his wife is dead, his career is failing. Horvath chooses this of all times to make his grand reentrance, setting his sights on that which Dave treasures most.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own, nor am I affiliated with Sorcerer's Apprentice or Disney or any of it's associates. I'm also broke, so suing would be pointless.

**A/N:** I have even less of an idea of where I'm going with this than the last two fics and- oh gods, my inner brain voice has started talking like Alfred Molina. Wow. I really need to get out more… Sorry, I just watched four of his movies in a row for 'inspiration,' in three of which he was either naked or mostly naked. If you want titles, review and/or message XD

* * *

Liza sat curled in the one remaining office chair while Horvath leaned against the desk, watching her carefully.

He'd explained to her who he was, and then more importantly who _she_ was. He'd told her all about her father being the Prime Merlinian and what that meant. He'd told her how he'd found her, the school permission slip sticking to his shoe and tracking her down, following her. He'd explained to her that magic was real, that it flowed through her veins, and that she had the potential to become one of the greatest sorceresses of all time. He'd moved the chair just in time for her to sit down heavily. She would have fallen otherwise.

They now sat in a suffocating silence, the only noise being her ragged breathing and him occasionally shifting his position against the desk.

Liza was hugging her knees, her legs drawn up against her ribcage in an upright fetal position. Her blue eyes were wide, staring straight ahead of her, looking at nothing. She'd been like that for going on ten minutes, and he was starting to worry.

"Miss Stutler?" he tried quietly. No response. He sighed and leveled his gaze at her.

"Liza?" he tried again. Her eyes snapped to him, and there was a fierceness in them that he was not expecting. She stood up suddenly, catching him off guard, but she made no threatening advances. She simply began to pace furiously, arms crossed fitfully in front of her chest. This went on for a good five minutes before Horvath felt compelled to say something. Liza beat him to it.

"So what you're telling me," she started, cutting him off just as he opened his mouth, "Is that magic is real, that my neurotic physics professor of a father is a powerful sorcerer and related to _Merlin_, which means that _I_ am related to Merlin, that you are over a thousand years old and used to be Morgana's right hand henchman before _my father_ prevented her resurrection and destroyed her. Is that what you're telling me?"

Horvath thought about it for a moment.

"Well, I wasn't ever anything so low as a _henchman_, but yes, the rest is pretty much accurate."

She glared at him for a moment, then stopped pacing and stared at him. Her eyes were narrowed to slits and contained so much venom that he actually had to resist the urge to flinch. She put her hands on her hips and gave him what he liked to refer to as 'the Woman Look.'

"Okay, fine," she said after a moment. "What does that mean for me? I mean, why am I being told about this _now_, of all times? I'm almost eighteen for fuck's sake, why hasn't my dad told me any of this?"

"I'm afraid I don't know that," Horvath answered, raising an eyebrow at her coarse language. "I was actually quite surprised by that fact myself. I thought he and your mother would be practically overrun with excitement to train you as a little sorceress. What with Balthazar hanging around, I had assumed-"

"First off, my mom died when I was three," she snapped, cutting him off. "Second, why the hell would 'Balthazar,' which I'm going to assume is reference to Balthazar Blake, be hanging around me and my dad? Wasn't he, like, Merlin's apprentice?"

"Yes, yes he was. He was also your father's master many years ago. You've never met him? Well now, that _is_ surprising. I wonder why not…"

"You still haven't answered my question," she said, derailing his train of thought. He glared at her. This wasn't goin at _all_ like he'd hoped.

"Which was?" he snarked. She glared right back at him.

"What does this mean for me? Am, I supposed to be your apprentice now or something? Am I going to be hunted down by secret ninja assassins for knowing too much about magic?"

"You watch too many movies," he told her, earning another glare. But she did have a point. He couldn't very well send her out on the street, knowing what he'd just told her, and expect her to keep her pretty little mouth shut, now could he? No, that would be reckless. He'd entertained the idea of taking her on as apprentice, but that was before he contacted her. The thought was becoming less and less attractive as each moment ticked past. But, he had to admit, it would have it's advantages…

He made a decision.

"I assure you, there will be no 'secret ninja assassins' coming after you for any reason. However, the option of becoming my apprentice is up to you. I could erase this entire encounter from your memory and you could go back to living your self-destructive little life, _or_ you could go against everything your oh-so-Merlinian father stands for and begin an apprenticeship with one of the most infamous Morganians in history."

"And said person is…?"

He glared at her.

"Me, you twit. What do you think I've been following you around for all this time? Fun?"

"Well, _I've _never heard of you," she scoffed, brushing her hair back behind her ear. He had to fight to keep from pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"Of course you haven't," he bit out through clenched teeth. "You've only just learned about magic five bloody minutes ago, how could you possibly know who I am?"

"Well, I've read a lot of Arthurian Legends and you've never been mentioned in any of them. And I think I'd remember a name like 'Maxim Horvath.' Christ, you have 'I'm The Bad Guy' written all over you. Might as well have a large, flashing neon sign levitating above your head, proclaiming your status as-"

"I think I get the picture, Miss Stutler," he snapped, starting to become a little irritated. While true that his appearance was often that of the stereotypical villain, and he knew it, there was nothing he could do about his _name_. Honestly, who did this girl think she was? He sincerely hoped against hope that she would choose to have her memory erased. He would have been better off leaving her alone…

"So, hang on a second," she said, looking like she was thinking hard. "What exactly would being an apprentice entail?"

Horvath groaned inwardly, half tempted to retract the offer. But it was too late now. And of course there were definite upsides. Having Merlin's power on his side, and under his control, no less, was most definitely better than having it against him. He sighed.

"If you were to become my apprentice, I would take you under my figurative wing and train you to the best of my considerable ability. I would teach you everything I know and make you over into a powerful sorceress and give you access to the world of magic that has been at your fingertips all your life."

"What's in it for you?" she asked, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. He couldn't help but smirk. Paranoia. That was a strong Morganian trait, and a very good sign. She had obviously grasped the concept that if someone gives you something for free, they clearly want something from you. He composed his expression and leveled his dark eyes at her.

"I would get an apprentice," he said calmly. "As well as a personal assistant, of sorts."

Judging by the way she was raising her eyebrows at him, he guessed she'd taken that to mean something it most certainly did not. He clarified.

"Someone to do the more menial tasks, such as cleaning and researching important things and the like. Nothing too difficult. Perhaps challenging, but not overly complicated. I won't have you scrubbing floors with toothbrushes or doing laundry by hand, if that's what you're afraid of. I support Swiffers and washing machines just as much as the next person.'

She snorted, but her body seemed to relax a little. She pursed her lips for a moment, thinking. She brushed her hair back behind her ear, revealing one stud and a ring through her earlobe, then another ring higher up in the cartilage. He made a face, not evening wanting to think about how much that must have hurt. His ear twinged painfully anyways. He resisted the urge to rub it. She looked back to him.

"Would I have to live with you or drop out of school?" she asked. He almost said yes to both things, because it would probably make her say no, but something told him to be honest with her.

"Not at all. I don't have a permanent residence at the moment, as I was just passing through on a routine visit when I found your paper," he told her, referring to her lost permission slip. "And you by no means would have to leave school. I know very well how important education is, even more so nowadays than when I was of school age."

"How long ago was that?" Liza jibed, earning a spiteful glare from Horvath. He let it slide, however. He could see no malice in her eyes, and had long since gotten over how utterly _old_ he was. Age meant nothing to him now. The concept of time had slipped away into the deepest crevices of his memory. He just cleared his throat and looked at her sternly.

"You can have a few days to think about it if you'd like," he offered. "Believe me, I'm in no hurry."

She caught his tone and it's meaning, grimacing snottily at him.

"I think I'll take those few days, if you don't mind. Just to think things over. It's kind of a big decision."

"Indeed it is, Miss Stutler," he said, then narrowed his eyes slightly. "However, I hope you are smart enough to keep this to yourself. It would not be a good thing, for instance, if your father were to know about this meeting."

She rolled her eyes derisively.

"I'm not stupid. I'll keep my mouth shut and lay low for a while. How can I contact you when I've made up my mind?" she asked, grabbing her bag off the floor and slinging it over her shoulder. He smirked.

"Click your heels three times and wish," he snarked. She fought back a grin.

"Right. Whatever." She tried the door, but it was still locked. She turned back to him.

"Are you gonna let me out or do I have to break down the door?"

He chuckled softly and raised his walking stick, the head glowing slightly. There was an audible click and the door swung open an inch or two. She wasted no time in exiting the room and heading down the hall towards the exit. Horvath stepped out of the room and watched her go, feeling slightly apprehensive. He already knew that she was going to accept his offer, that she was just giving him a hard time. He sighed.

Working with her was going to be, and yes, it was the only phrase that accurately described it, a bitch.

* * *

Liza started running as soon as she was out of the building, a gleeful grin plastered on her face.

Magic was real. She'd know it all her life, and now she had proof in the form of that psychotic old British man who'd been stalking her. He was her key into a world of the impossible, a chance to become something more than the quiet crazy dyke in the back of the class. She always knew she was better than that. This was her destiny.

After running a few blocks nonstop, she came to a breathless halt, leaning against a wall and taking a moment to clear her head.

There were several problems presented to her in this situation. A.) she couldn't tell anybody. She knew she wasn't crazy, but everyone else would still think she was. This suited her just fine. Fuck them. B.) Jillian would never understand. She'd probably have to cut back on their time together if she accepted Horvath's proposition, and she knew that wouldn't sit well with the spunky blonde. C.) She would technically become her father's enemy. And while they hadn't exactly gotten along for most of her life, she certainly didn't want to duel with him. Especially if he was as powerful as Horvath had implied.

Standing on that street corner, panting and freezing her ass off, she made her final decision. She stuck her hands in her pockets for warmth. Her brow furrowed. She pulled her left hand out, clutching a small slip of crinkled paper. There was an address on it, along with a short note.

_Drop by when you've stopped being difficult._

Liza grinned, knowing exactly who it was from. She glanced cautiously around, checking to see if he was following her. If he was, he'd hid himself very well. She stuffed the note back into her pocket and adjusted her bag strap, then set off towards home.

She needed to catch up on her Arthurian lore.


	8. Research

**Title:** The Magical Education of Liza Stutler

**Author:** skarletfyre

**Rating:** M, for language, mature situations, drug content, underage drinking, possibly ideologically sensitive material, and all that crazy stuff I'm so fond of.

**Summary:** Twenty years later, Dave's falling apart. His teenage daughter is a loose cannon and knows nothing of magic, his wife is dead, his career is failing. Horvath chooses this of all times to make his grand reentrance, setting his sights on that which Dave treasures most.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own, nor am I affiliated with Sorcerer's Apprentice or Disney or any of it's associates. I'm also broke, so suing would be pointless.

**A/N:** Okay, so I'm finally progressing the plot! I know that by this time in my last few stories the fic was pretty much halfway over, but this one is different. For one, I still don't have an ending, which is not good. I had an ending for the last two by the fourth chapter. But oh well. I'll get it done. Suggestions in review form are a very nice touch.

* * *

Dave noticed that his daughter was spending an unusual amount of time at home lately.

Normally this would please him, as it meant that she was off the streets and he knew she was safe. However, he couldn't help but get the feeling that something was off.

About a week ago, Dave had come home to find her already there, spread out on the living room floor with her laptop in front of her and a massive collection of books on Arthurian Legends scattered around her. She'd barely glanced up when he walked in and asked what she was doing, giving only vague responses. He didn't know how long she'd been there, but she stayed like that for another three hours until he got dinner ready and managed to coax her into the kitchen with the promise of ice cream for dessert.

She'd also been giving him funny looks, like she was sizing him up. He found it quite unnerving. He'd asked her about it several times, but she'd just looked at him like he was crazy and said she didn't know what he was talking about. Of course he didn't believe her.

Last night she'd fallen asleep on the couch, her laptop open and on in front of her. Before waking her up, Dave took the time to see what she'd been looking at. What he'd discovered was disheartening.

She was looking up available apartments. He should have expected it, of course. Her eighteenth birthday was coming up insanely fast, so it was only logical for her to start looking for a new place to live. She couldn't stay with him forever. …Could she? No, she wouldn't want to. All they did was argue, about anything and everything. That wasn't a healthy environment and she deserved better. _He_ deserved better. He didn't know what he'd do without her around, but he couldn't imagine living in this toxic state of resentment for the rest of his life either. And he didn't want that for her. Like every good father, all he anted was for his little girl to be happy, no matter what. If that meant getting away from him, then so be it.

Dave wished she was still small enough for him to carry to bed. He would have given almost anything to be able to pick her tiny form up from wherever she was resting and transport her from there to her room. He'd long forgotten what it felt like to hold her. She'd practically forbidden hugs the day she turned twelve. The closest they'd gotten were those crappy one-armed almost-hugs on birthdays and holidays and the like. Dave felt alone.

His daughter didn't need him anymore.

Coming to this realization, he'd been driven to do something that he'd promised himself he would never do again.

He'd called Balthazar Blake, his old friend and master whom he hadn't spoken to in going on ten years. The old sorcerer had been quite surprised to pick up the phone and hear his old apprentices voice on the other line, and it had been very clear in his scratchy voice that he had never expected to hear from Dave for the rest of his life. After all, that's what Dave had shouted at him the last time they'd spoke.

Dave was always a bad liar.

The conversation had gone something like this:

"_Hello?"_

"_Balthazar?"_

"…_Dave?"_

"…_Yeah, it's me."_

"_I see… Is everything alright?"_

"_Mm hmm, everything's fine."_

"…_I see… How've you been, Dave?"_

_At this point Veronica had walked in and almost dropped the vase she was carrying in surprise. She'd stared at Balthazar incredulously, not quite sure if she'd heard right or not, but he'd waved at her to be quiet._

"_Alright, I suppose. What about you?"_

"_Fine, fine. We've been fine. Are you sure everything's alright? You sound a little… Strained."_

"_Yeah, sorry, I'm trying to be quiet. Liza's in her room with a friend and I don't want her to come out. She probably won't for a while, but still…'_

"_I understand… How is Liza?"_

"_She's… Hmm. That's a good question."_

_Balthazar had to chuckle at that, smiling slightly at Veronica, who was now sitting at the kitchen table and staring at him intently._

"_She has a birthday coming up in a few months, doesn't she? How old will she be this time, sixteen?"_

"_Eighteen."_

_Balthazar gave a low whistle._

"_She's growing up fast," he said, knowing he was touching on a sensitive subject. Dave was quiet for a moment, then cleared his throat._

"_That's actually, uh, kind of why I'm calling…"_

"_Go on," Balthazar said after a long, uncomfortable moment. He heard Dave take a deep breath._

"_You're right, Balthazar. I have to tell her."_

_The ancient sorcerer had waited for many years to hear those words, but now he took no joy from them. The voice they were spoken in was desperate, cracking. Dave was terrified. Balthazar swallowed and glanced over at Veronica._

"_I think- I think that's a very good idea, Dave. She's old enough now to understand what it means."_

"_I know that, and I've been wanting to tell her for a while now actually, but… I just- I don't even know where to start. I'm scared that I've waited too long. I don't- I want her to end up like _them_."_

_This last bit was spoken in a fierce whisper. Balthazar knew exactly what Dave was talking about, and was a little startled that he would even think that. Surely the girl couldn't be _that_ bad. She was a teenager after all. He swallowed._

"_What exactly do you want me to do about that, Dave? I don't know how I can be of any help to you from all the way over here. Besides, I don't even know the girl anymore. I haven't seen her since she was six years old."_

"_I know, I know," Dave said, sounding tired. "That's another thing I want to talk to you about. I know it's been a while, and I know we haven't quite gotten along the past few years-"_

_Balthazar couldn't help snorting derisively. It had been a bit more than _a few_ years._

"_-But I really think it would be good for you and Veronica to come for Liza's birthday in April. I mean, you're her godparents after all."_

"_Yes, Dave, we're painfully aware of that fact."_

_Dave was quiet for a moment. Balthazar felt a little bad for snapping at him, but he couldn't help it. The boy- well _man_ now -was infuriating. He'd cut them out of his life, and their godchild's life, for the past ten years, and now he suddenly wanted them back? It shouldn't be that easy. Balthazar and Veronica were just starting to forget about the twitchy little physics nerd who'd once upon a time been so important to them. Now, all these years later, he was back at their door, pawing to be let in. Balthazar's jaw tightened._

"_I need your help, Balthazar," Dave said just as Balthazar opened his mouth. The desperation in the younger man's voice caught him off guard. He hadn't sounded like that since Becky had been diagnosed with cancer, and he was begging Balthazar to find a spell to save her._

"_I can't do this by myself," he continued. "I'm not strong enough. You don't know what she's like now. If she can't handle it or, god forbid, takes it wrong, then I don't- Please. Balthazar, _please_. I really need you right now."_

_That had done it. Balthazar's resolve crumbled. His eyes softened and he swallowed hard. Veronica got up and walked over to him, gently placing a hand on his shoulder and leaning in to listen on the phone. They stared into each other's eyes for a long time._

"_Alright, Dave," he said after a moment of silence. "When do you want us to be there?"_

That call had been almost a month ago now. Balthazar and Veronica were scheduled to show up three days before Liza's birthday and stay with them in the spare bedroom for as long as necessary. If everything went right, they would help Dave explain to his daughter all about magic, about her true destiny, the discussion hopefully ending with her either becoming Dave or Veronica's apprentice. Balthazar said he'd taught one apprentice and didn't think he could take anymore in his life. Said he didn't know how Merlin had possibly managed three of them at once.

Dave looked fondly at his daughter, busily clacking away at her computer, probably working on a school report. For French, he guessed by the intensity in her eyes. She loved French, and took great pleasure in arguing with him in it. He didn't speak a word of the language, and so she always won by default. It was infuriating.

She glanced up and caught him staring, her brow furrowing.

"What?" she asked, messing anxiously with her hair. He couldn't help but smirk.

"Just thinking," he said vaguely. She scowled at him, going back to her typing. Dave just smirked to himself and sipped his apple juice, staring at her and knowing it made her uncomfortable. Isn't that what fathers are for?

* * *

Horvath had just changed into his night clothes when the knock came at his door.

He glared at it for a moment. The knock turned into a series of rhythmic bangs, not ceasing until he finally got out of his chair and opened the damn door.

"It bloody well took you long enough," he snarled at the girl standing in front of him. She grinned and pushed her way past him, effectively invading both his personal bubble and his living quarters. All without an invitation. He raised a furious eyebrow as she plopped herself down on _his_ bed and unslung her bag from her shoulder, digging around in it for a moment. Her hands emerged holding two books and a spiral notebook. These she set on the bed next to her. Horvath crossed his arms and glared intently at her. She ignored him.

"I've been doing some research," she said, sounding irritatingly cheerful for so late in the evening. She glanced up at him, then did a double take and stared. Her left eyebrow slowly moved skyward as she regarded his attire.

"What the hell are you wearing?" she managed to get out. Horvath glanced down, finding nothing amiss with his pajamas.

"They're pajamas," he said. She continued staring. "People wear them to bed."

"I don't," she said nonchalantly. "I don't wear anything to bed."

Horvath digested this information, then shook himself. Honestly, the nerve of the girl…

"I was about to go to sleep, you know. You could have at least waited until morning before deciding to grace me with your presence."

She smirked and sat back, crossing her legs and making a table out of her lap. She grabbed one of the thicker books and opened it, flipping through for a moment until she arrived at the correct page.

"Okay," she said, her expression immediately becoming serious. "I have been reading and researching and watching '_Merlin_' reruns for the past week and I think I've got everything down. The whole concept of being an apprentice, I mean. I wasn't quite sure before because of vague your description was. You did that on purpose didn't you?"

She stopped long enough to glare at him, but not long enough for him to formulate a reply. She closed the book she was flipping mindlessly through and tossed it back on the bed. She stood up, crossed her arms in front of her chest, and stared him down. He realized, with more satisfaction than the realization warranted, that she was nervous.

"I came here," she started, taking a deep breath, "To tell you that I've decided to accept your offer and agree to become your apprentice. On one condition."

Horvath quirked a tired brow at her, not in the mood for games.

"And what would that be, Miss Stutler?"

There was a flash of humor in her blue eyes.

"Stop calling me that. My name is Liza. Miss Stutler is my estranged aunt. Deal?"

Horvath stared at her for a long moment, not quite sure if she was serious. He snorted when he realized that she was.

"Deal."

Had Horvath known the strife and frustration these words would cause him he never would have uttered them. But then, not all pain is bad….


	9. Choke On It, Bitch

**Title:** The Magical Education of Liza Stutler

**Author:** skarletfyre

**Rating:** M, for language, mature situations, drug content, underage drinking, possibly ideologically sensitive material, and all that crazy stuff I'm so fond of.

**Summary:** Twenty years later, Dave's falling apart. His teenage daughter is a loose cannon and knows nothing of magic, his wife is dead, his career is failing. Horvath chooses this of all times to make his grand reentrance, setting his sights on that which Dave treasures most.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own, nor am I affiliated with Sorcerer's Apprentice or Disney or any of it's associates. I'm also broke, so suing would be pointless.

**A/N:** I do speak French. I can say 'yes,' count to three, and ask if someone speaks French, but I do not speak French. I credit Google Translate for being the greatest help to me in school, particularly Spanish class. If you speak French, _bon pour vous._ The stuff in French will be in italics, it's English translation with be next to it in bold and enclosed in parentheses.

* * *

Dave, who was sitting on the sofa watching the Weather Channel, looked up in surprise when the song 'I Wanna Sex You Up' began playing from the floor next to him. He waited for Liza to rush out of her room and grab her phone from her purse, and then remembered that Liza was not at home.

He frowned.

The only time he'd ever seen Liza anywhere without her phone since she was fourteen was when she had to be hospitalized for dehydration. And even then she'd woken up and asked for it. To accidentally leave it at home wasn't like her.

He hesitated for a moment, then reached down and grabbed her bag. He rummaged through it for a moment until he found the now very loudly ringing phone. He glanced at the caller ID and raised his eyebrows, recognizing the photo of the girl Liza had brought around the week before. Jillian, he thought her name was. The ID name was 'JillyBean'.

He pressed a button and held the phone up to his ear.

"Hello?"

There was silence for a moment.

"Jared? Is that you? Is Liza with you?"

Dave made a mental note to ask his daughter who 'Jared' was.

"No, this is Mr. Stutler, Liza's father. Is this Jillian?"

"Um, yeah," the girl said, sounding a little surprised. "Is Liza there, or is she in trouble?"

"No, she's not here, but she might be in trouble when she gets back. She forgot her phone, so I decided to answer it. You don't where she is?"

"No, that's why I was- wait, she left her _phone_? Seriously? That doesn't sound like something Liza would do…"

"That's what I thought. You sure you don't know where she is?"

"If I knew, I wouldn't have called. She was supposed to meet me half an hour ago but hasn't showed up. If you see her will you tell her that I'm worried?"

"Only if you'll do the same thing," Dave said with a small smirk. Jillian gave a chuckle at the other end of the line. There was an awkward pause.

"Okay, well, I was just calling to tell Liza she's a bitch, but since she isn't there, I think I'll just go back to my coffee. Night, Mr. Stutler."

"Goodnight, Jillian. I'll tell Liza that you called."

"Thanks. Bye."

The line went dead. Dave looked at the phone for a moment, then opened the main menu and began scrolling through the texts. He usually didn't do things like that, not wanting Liza to be angrier at him that she already was, but this time it felt right. His eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline.

He needed to have a little talk with his daughter when she decided to come home.

* * *

"Are you sure I have to wear this thing?"

Horvath glanced up from the Encantis at his new apprentice. He rolled his dark eyes in frustration. It was the third time she'd asked him that in the last hour, and his answer had not changed.

"It would be remarkable if you didn't," he snapped, flipping the page with unneeded force. "But you do, so yes. You have to wear it."

"But it's _ugly_!" Liza said, grimacing down at her hand. The clunky green-gemmed dragon ring Horvath had given her sat on her right middle finger, absurdly large on her thin hand. She sat down hard in one of the old wooden chairs they'd dragged up to the roof from the basement two days earlier. Most uncomfortable elevator ride _ever_.

"I still don't get why _I_ couldn't have picked out my own damn ring," she huffed, earning another glare from her master. "I mean, I'm the one who has to wear it all the time, right? It's not fair."

Horvath closed his eyes and took a deep breath, calling upon whatever higher power there may be to give him the strength not to wrap his hands around her throat and strangle the life out of her. It worked, to some extent.

That was one of her favorite phrases, he soon discovered. _'It's not fair.' _She'd whined that line at him too many times to count and he was quickly losing patience with it. And her. She was positively maddening. No wonder David was looking so thin these days.

"That particular ring," he snarled at her, "Used to belong to Merlin himself. It also belonged to your father before I took it from him. Since you are descended from both Merlin and your dear old daddy, I found it most appropriate to continue the family tradition of young sorcerers and sorceresses using _that_ ring," he snarked. Liza just gave him a snotty look and crossed her legs, staring out at the moonlit city.

"What'll we do if it rains?" she asked after a moment.

He turned to glare furiously at her, preparing a biting retort. However, he realized she had a point. There were on the roof of his hotel, exposed to the elements even with all the protection spells he placed around them. And it was rather cold. He glared at her.

"Have you got any other ideas of where we could work undisturbed?" he snapped at her. She crossed her arms and shrugged.

"Nope. But you're supposed to be the smart one, right? I'm just the lowly apprentice, what do I know?"

"Obviously not a lot," Horvath said quietly to himself. She obviously heard him, because she stood up so violently that her chair fell over behind her. He watched her with a quirked brow as she came to stand in front of him, arms crossed and eyes blazing.

"_Pouvez-vous comprendre ce que je dis_?" (**Do you understand what I'm saying?**)

He stared at her for a moment.

"I beg your pardon?" he said, obviously confused. A triumphant smirk spread across her face, illuminated eerily in the moonlight.

"_Je ne pensais pas_," (**I thought not,**) she said, obviously pleased with herself. "_Je parle couramment le français, et ont été depuis que je suis âgé de treize ans. Je suis en haut toutes mes classes à l'école, je suis sur le rôle honneur, et je suis en première ligne pour être valedictorian._" She placed her hands on her hips and thrust out her jaw, giving him an unwavering look of supreme superiority."_J'ai sauté la huitième année et est entré lycée à l'âge de treize ans. Je suis le plus jeune dans mon année et avoir une chance très élevée pour obtenir une bourse pour Julliard. Je sais un peu, Monsieur Horvath, mais pas dans les sujets que vous souhaitez._"(**I speak French fluently, and have since I was thirteen years old. I'm at the top of all my classes at school, I'm on the honor role, and I'm first in line to be valedictorian. I skipped eighth grade and entered high school at the age of thirteen. I am the youngest in my year and have a very high chance to get a scholarship to Julliard. I know quite a bit, Mr. Horvath, but not in the topics you want.**)

Amusement flickered in her astonishingly blue eyes, her features softening fractionally.

"_Je suis aussi un descendant de Merlin, de sorte ha_." (**I'm also a descendant of Merlin, so ha.**)

Horvath's jaw was hanging open slightly by the time she finished, even though he had no idea what she just said. He'd got the gist of the last bit, however. She was mocking him, he knew that much. He closed his mouth and leveled his dark eyes at her.

"Be that as it may," he said, trying to regain his composure. "_I_ am the one who has nearly two millennia's worth of magical knowledge while _you_ can't even conjure a simple plasma bolt."

He was pleased to see a scowl mar her features.

"Which is exactly why you're supposed to be teaching me," she snapped. "Not flipping through that stupid book and ignoring me. I only got the whole '_setting-things-on-fire-from-a-distance_' thing down 'cause I'm sort of a pyromaniac, but whatever. Though I must admit, I'm learning _so_ much on the art of turning pages and-"

"You're first problem is that you have no patience," Horvath said, closing the Encantis with a snap and setting it aside. He stood up, towering over the girl and glaring down at her. Liza glared right back at him, not looking the slightest bit intimidated. This surprised him, but did not displease him.

"You are lazy, over-talkative, rude, competitive, spiteful, and over-indulgent. You cannot follow directions, all you've done the entire time we've known each other is annoy me, every other word out of your mouth is something profane, you seem to be incapable of sitting still for longer than three minutes, and on account of your constant inane chatter we have accomplished absolutely _nothing_, when we could already be finished with at last three basic lessons!"

He paused for breath and glared down at her. She was regarding him with a raised eyebrow and a rather snotty look on her face. He hadn't noticed until then that her eyes were peppered with little flecks of silver in the iris. They were rather piercing.

"You also have a horrible fashion sense," he added, more to break the silence than anything. Strangely, this was the only thing that seemed to offend her.

"I am _fabulous_!" She half-shouted, startling a flock of pigeons that had been roosting nearby. Horvath watched them fly away, then looked back at Liza. She was glaring at the birds, but stopped when she caught him staring. She took a step back and ran a hand through her dark hair.

"I need a drink," she growled quietly. Horvath gave her a skeptical look.

"I thought you were too young to drink?" he said, taking up a bit of a condescending tone. She gave him a snotty look.

"So?"

They stared at each other for a moment, then Horvath sighed and looked away.

"I suppose I could go for a drink as well. Do you know any good bars around here?"

She laughed.

"I don't go to bars, stupid! I buy it bootleg off the streets and pour it in my coffee. Yeesh. I know I'm a sexy bitch, but I can't pass for twenty-one yet. I know a guy who sells it pretty cheap, so don't worry.'

"That doesn't sound very… safe," Horvath commented, brows furrowed. She grinned at him.

"Who cares? Ah, never mind. Let's just go to Starbucks. Mocha's are almost as good as whiskey."

Horvath seriously doubted this, but agreed anyways.

* * *

"What do you want to drink?" Liza asked when they arrived at Starbucks. Horvath glanced at the menu in disdain.

"Coffee," he snarked. "Black. No sugar, no cream."

"I should've known," she said, rolling her eyes and strolling up into line. Horvath smirked slightly and sat down at a table, glancing around at the other night owls occupying the small coffee shop. There were only three other people there besides themselves, and two of them were sitting together. The third had their computer out and was typing maniacally away at it. He sighed and began to fiddle with his cuffs.

Liza returned shortly, sitting across from him and sliding him his coffee. He thanked her and sipped experimentally. It was quite good, actually. He watched in amusement as she popped the lid off of hers and drank deeply, coming back up for air with a creamy moustache. She grinned goofily at his expression.

"Do you have any idea how stupid you look?" he asked her derisively. She grinned wider.

"I look a damn sight nicer than you do," she retorted, licking her lips salaciously. He raised an eyebrow at her, not quite sure what to make of this strange girl.

"Liza?"

Liza looked up sharply, as did Horvath. The two people who'd been sitting together in the corner were now standing by their table uncertainly, glancing between Liza and Horvath suspiciously. Horvath recognized the girl as being the little blonde thing that was always following Liza around after school. The man with her looked slightly familiar as well, but couldn't quite place him. Liza stared at them in surprise.

"Jillian, Jared," she said, turned in her seat to face them. "What are you guys doing here?"

"You were supposed to meet us here like forty-five minutes ago," Jillian said, crossing her arms and glaring at Liza. Horvath noticed with some discomfort that the man was staring intently at him, and made an effort to avoid his eyes. He wasn't intimidated, not by any means, it was just awkward. The girl glanced at him pointedly, then looked back to Liza.

"I guess you were busy, huh? By the way, your dad's worried about you."

Liza's eyes narrowed.

"When the hell did you talk to me dad?" she asked suspiciously.

"I called your cell phone to see if you were going to bother showing up, and he answered and said you weren't home."

"What are you talking about? My phone's in my-"

She reached down and patted her jeans pocket. Her eyes widened.

"Aw, shit. Dammit. I'm sorry, Jilli, I forgot. We were working on something and time slipped away," she said, gesturing to Horvath. Jillian took a moment to glare suspiciously at Horvath, then returned her attention to Liza. She took a deep breath.

"Fine. But next time at least have the decency to remember your phone next time. We missed the damn movie because we were waiting for you."

"Hey, you didn't have to wait," Liza said defensively, sitting back in her chair. "Jesus, Jillian, you don't have to plan your life around me all the time."

"What the hell's that supposed me, Liza? You're my girlfriend, we're _supposed_ to plan things according to each other's-"

"Since when am I your girlfriend? Where was I when that was decided?"

"Um, how about when we started _fucking_?"

The lonely typist across the room stopped and looked up. Horvath realized that all the employees had come out from the back and were now watching the scene unfold. Jared was still glaring intently at him, and it was getting very hard to ignore that fact.

"Just because we slept together doesn't make us a couple!" Liza said in exasperation. "Do you have any idea how many boyfriends I'd have if that was true?"

"So then what exactly are we, Liza?" Jillian asked, crossing her arms roughly over her chest. "Am I just a good time? Something for you to experiment with before you figure out who you want to be or whatever? If this is all just a joke to you or something then I hope you realize that you're the only one laughing."

"Why are you getting all worked up about this?" Liza asked, rather loudly. "Jillian, we talked about this when we first started sleeping together, you know what I'm like-"

"Yeah, I know exactly what you're like, Liza, and so does half of fucking Manhattan. Christ could you _be_ more of a slut?" Liza looked as though she'd just been slapped. Jillian didn't stop there. "I didn't mind before, but before you weren't missing our dates 'cause you were out blowing some old creep in alley or wherever the fuck you do business," she practically yelled, gesturing violently at Horvath.

Liza stood up suddenly and slapped her. The noise of her hand colliding with Jillian's cheek cracked through the small coffee shop. Several of the baristas gasped, and Horvath's eyebrows shot up. Liza's eyes widened as Jillian jerked the hair out of her eyes, realizing what she'd done. She pulled her hand to her chest and took a step back, almost tripping on her chair.

"Jillian… I- I didn't-"

"Don't talk to me," Jillian said, glaring hatefully at Liza. "Don't you ever fucking talk to me again you fucking whore. I'm done, Liza. I'm done with your games and your lies and your fucking arrogance. I hope you choke on his cock, you bitch."

She grabbed Liza's drink off the table and threw it at her, drenching her in the scalding liquid. Almost before Liza started yelling in pain, Jillian was out the door, Jared close behind her. Horvath sat in astonishment for a moment, then regained his composure and rushed to help his apprentice.


	10. Do You Want Her Back Or Not?

**Title:** The Magical Education of Liza Stutler

**Author:** skarletfyre

**Rating:** M, for language, mature situations, drug content, underage drinking, possibly ideologically sensitive material, and all that crazy stuff I'm so fond of.

**Summary:** Twenty years later, Dave's falling apart. His teenage daughter is a loose cannon and knows nothing of magic, his wife is dead, his career is failing. Horvath chooses this of all times to make his grand reentrance, setting his sights on that which Dave treasures most.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own, nor am I affiliated with Sorcerer's Apprentice or Disney or any of it's associates. I'm also broke, so suing would be pointless.

**A/N:** Ugh, my writer's block is coming back (insert sad face). I'm back to school now, so I have less and less time to write. Also, anyone who gets the end quote (without Googling it or something) gets cookies!

* * *

"Oh, there you are. Jillian called earlier."

"Fuck off!"

Dave looked over, startled, as his daughter stormed down the hall into her room, slamming the door so hard that the paintings on the wall shook. He blinked and turned back to the news.

A few minutes later, he heard a loud crash, and then a lot of very loud swearing. There were a few more crashes, followed by what sounded like stomping, then it all went quiet. He heard the distinct sound of someone screaming into a pillow. There was silence.

After debating with himself for a moment, he decided to be the good father and find out what was wrong with his little girl. This had happened several times before, and all of them had involved a boy. He had a feeling this was something along those lines. The newscaster was cut off mid sentence as Dave switched off the TV, hauling himself off the couch and making his way down to the end of the hall. He hesitated a moment before knocking.

"Liza? Are you alright? Can I come in?"

"Does it sound like I'm fucking alright?" she screamed at him through the door, making it slightly muffled. He frowned to himself and cautiously opened the door, preparing to duck and run should she start throwing things at him. He was lucky.

As he'd suspected, she was cocooned in her massive comforter, completely buried beneath it's fluffiness. It was shaking slightly, and he knew at once that she was crying. Dave's eyes instantly softened, his paternal instinct kicking in full force. He left the door open behind him and crossed the room, gently sitting down on to the bed next to the shaking mass of fluff. He slowly pulled back the blankets at the head of the bed. Liza's feet stared back at him. He sighed and shifted position, then tried again at the end of the bed.

Liza whimpered in protest and shrunk back, but it was halfhearted. Dave reached out a hand and tenderly stroked the hair out of her tearstained face. As her blue eyes met his brown ones, he couldn't help remembering those eyes framed in her mother's face. He swallowed. Her lower lip trembled slightly and she looked away, a fresh sob forcing it's way up her throat.

"Oh, Liza… What's happening to you?" Dave whispered, more to himself than her. She obviously heard, him however, and looked up. He could have sworn there was shame in her eyes, but her voice was nothing but bitter.

"I grew up," she snapped, her tone slightly watery. "You should've expected it."

"It's not that I didn't expect it," he said patiently. "It's just that I was hoping it would happen a little… slower. You know?"

She was silent for a long moment, still not looking at him.

"Yeah, I know," she said softly, finally. She scooted over slightly and grabbed his arm, snuggling with it like a pillow. Dave swallowed again in memoriam. Liza used to do to that all the time when she was upset, back in the days when he could pick her up with one arm and piggy-bag her around the streets. Those days were long since gone, but it was nice to know that the instinct wasn't.

Dave sniffed slightly, his brow crinkling.

"What smells like coffee?"

Liza let out a cold bark of laughter. It was a harsh, bitter sound without mirth. She pulled the blankets slightly, revealing her shirt to be stained with ruddy brown liquid, some of it rubbing off onto the sheets. Dave raised an eyebrow.

"Did you have a bad spill or something?" he asked, chuckling carefully, not sure if she'd snap at him or not. She just shook her head, a few strands of dark hair falling across her face. Her face contorted into a grimace of irony.

"Not quite. Jilli and I had a little argument. In a coffee shop. With plenty of ammo around. In all fairness, I _did_ slap her first-"

"Wait, what? You slapped her? Why?" Dave asked, alarmed. Liza shrugged.

"She called me a whore. And not in the friendly joking way either. I was already in a bad mood anyways."

"But why would she call you that?" he asked, half of him not wanting to know the answer. Liza rolled her eyes.

"I'm not a prostitute, Dad. I promise." He believed the sincerity in her voice. "I was supposed to meet her and Jared at Starbucks earlier, but I forgot. I was with another friend, and we went for coffee and Jillian was there. She got all pissy and jealous and called me a whore. So I slapped her. Then she threw my coffee at me and stormed out."

"Wait, why would she be jealous? If it's a just a friend then-"

Dave understood a second before Liza gave him a meaningful look. He closed his mouth abruptly, then opened it again. Nothing came out, so he shut it.

"I see," he said after a moment. Liza tilted her head at him, which didn't have quite the same effect, seeing as she was laying down.

"See what?"

"Well, you know, I think I'd known for a while," he said slowly, sounding like he was measuring the eight of every word. "I just didn't know how to bring it up. But I'm okay with it, Liza. It's your life and you can live it however you want. I'll love you no matter what-"

"Dad, what the hell are you talking about?" she said, cutting him off. "Bring what up? I don't-"

A look of dawning comprehension flashed across her face, almost immediately followed by a sly grin. She moved and sat up, still keeping the comforter wrapped around her.

"Dad, I'm not gay, okay? If that's what you're thinking, then… no."

Dave let out the breath he didn't realize he was holding.

"Okay, sorry. I just figured well- you've made comments in the past, and the whole Jillian thing-"

"Well, me and Jillian have been sleeping together, but I'm not a lesbian."

Dave blinked, absorbing the information he'd just been presented with. His daughter slept with girls… but she wasn't gay. He wasn't quite sure he understood, and it clearly showed on his face. Liza made a disparaging sound in the back of her throat and ran a hand through her hair, obviously having dreaded this conversation. She clasped her hands in her lap and looked into his eyes.

"Okay. This sounds weird, but here it is. I am not attracted to a specific gender _per se_, I'm attracted to people. Jillian is the only girl I've been with, and I don't know if that's going to change. I'm not heterosexual, I'm not homosexual, I'm not bisexual, I'm just… sexual, I guess. I dunno, that sounds weird" She scratched at her head and shrugged her shoulders, something he remembered very well from when she was uncomfortable as a child.

"I think I understand," he said. She looked up at him, her blue eyes hopeful. Dave smiled slightly. "Well, emphasis on _think_. But that doesn't matter, No matter what, you will always be my little girl, and I will _always_ love you. I promise you that, Liza."

Liza bit her lip, her eyes watering slightly.

"I love you too, Daddy."

* * *

"Concentrate! You have to concentrate! Clear your mind!"

"That's pretty damn hard to do when you keep yelling at me!"

Horvath ignored the remark and glowered sternly at Liza. She glared back at him, then looked away and went back to practicing. She was obviously trying very, very hard, but something was holding her back. He had a feeling he knew what it was.

It had been a week since the coffee shop incident, and each day he saw her she seemed to be in a worse mood than the last. He suspected that it had something to do with that Jillian girl, but he hadn't breached the subject. But now he was beginning to think he should. Liza had been steadily decreasing in both skill and willing to participate. She was getting sloppy, and she'd almost seriously injured herself on several occasions earlier in the evening because she wasn't paying attention as he demonstrated something. Even now, she was struggling to conjure a simple fireball.

He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration as the tiny spark in her hands died out into nothingness. Her hands flopped loosely to her sides, her eyes blank and tired. Horvath glared at her and strode over. She looked up as he approached, taking a cautious step back when she saw the look on his face. He stopped a few inches in front of her and stared intently at her.

"I took you on as an apprentice because I was under the impression that you wanted to learn magic. Obviously I as mistaken," he continued loudly as she opened her mouth to protest. "Your focus tonight is atrocious, you've almost blown yourself up _three times_ this evening, you temperament has been absolutely abhorrent these last few days and I think I know why."

Her mouth snapped shut again, having been about to interrupt. He flicked his dark eyes back and forth between her clear blue ones, searching for any signs that she was assault him for bringing it up. Liza just glared back at him stonily. Horvath cleared his throat and went on, but his tone was slightly softer than before.

"Being that I am your master, I am also entitled to look after your well-being as well as your progression in the magical arts. I have noticed that you are not exactly at your best, and have been steadily declining for the past week. You show no signs of improving or solving the problem on your own, so I am going to help you. And I'm not offering, I'm telling you, understand?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," she mumbled, avoiding his eyes. He resisted the urge to grab her chin and yank her face around to him. That would just cause even more problems, and he had a feeling it would probably shatter her already-limited trust in him. As it was, he just glared down at her.

"You know _exactly_ what I'm talking about, Liza. Don't try to lie to me, I can always tell. Have you spoken to her?"

Liza's head shot up, her eyes wide and fierce.

"Spoken to who?" she said, trying to sound nonchalant. She almost pulled it off, except for a slight quaver at the end that Horvath caught on immediately. He narrowed his eyes slightly.

"What did I just say about lying to me, Miss Stutler?" he snapped, the use of her surname earning a hateful glare. He ignore it and pressed on. "Do I have to spell it out for you? Have you spoken to Jillian, that little blonde tramp you used to run around with before you slapped her and she assaulted you with a beverage?"

"She's not a tramp!" Liza shouted, her fists clenching at her sides. Now they were getting somewhere. Horvath half-hoped that she would try to hit him, if only so he could knock her down a peg and teach her her place. As it were, all he did was smirk coldly at her.

"You're defending her," he stated, leveling his black eyes at her in a way he knew made grown men quake in their boots. She swallowed hard, assuring him that the look still worked. "That's good. You care about her. She's important to you. And yet here you are, sulking on a rooftop, instead of being out there, fighting for all your worth to win her back. Why is that?"

Surprise flickered through those sky colored eyes of hers. She had obviously been expecting him to yell at her, and he was sorely tempted to, but his instinct was telling him to play to her soft side. His instinct had only failed him twice.

"What do you mean?" she asked, her voice sounding just as confused as her face looked. Horvath restrained himself from rolling his eyes.

"I mean," he started sardonically, "Why haven't you proved yourself to her yet? How do even handle being in the same classroom with her if you can't even look her in the eyes and apologize?"

"Are you seriously giving me woman advice? Really?"

"Surprising as it may seem to you, I do know quite a bit on the subject."

"Are you married?"

"No."

"Have you ever _been_ married?"

"No."

Liza titled her head to the side and regarded him.

"Are you a virgin?"

Now Horvath did roll his eyes.

"Don't be absurd. I'm nearly two thousand years old, of course not," he snarked. "But that's off topic. What do you plan to do to get her back?"

"Who says I want her back?"

The girl was so transparent she might as well be made of cling wrap. It was almost pathetic. Horvath sighed laboriously.

"Well, let's see, shall we? You're ill tempered, you are perpetually staring off wistfully into the distance, you snap at the slightest provocation, I've caught you humming something that sounds suspiciously like '_One Is The Loneliest Number_' on more than one occasion. You are unfocused, dull, sluggish, a bore to be around, ruder than usual, and you're becoming lapse in your hygiene," he said, counting off on his fingers. She scowled at him, but didn't say anything. "All of these things are a problem, for you and certainly for me. We both know what the problem is, and you're doing nothing about it. I'm beginning to think that I may have misjudged you, Liza. I was under the impression that you were a girl who got what she wanted, not one who sat around moping and feeling sorry for herself, miring in her pathetic misery!"

He inflected quite a bit of venom into those last few words, and was pleased when she flinched and looked away. Hesitating only slightly, he reached out and placed a finger under chin tilting her head towards him. He was gentler than he normally would have been, but she still tensed up. His eyes bored into hers.

"Do you want her back or not?" he asked in a low voice. She opened her mouth once, then closed it again and looked down.

"Yeah," she said softly. He released her chin, her head flopping down to examine her shoes. Horvath took a step back and regarded her.

"Chocolate. You're going to need chocolate and flowers."

Liza looked up sharply, staring at him in surprise.

"What?"

Horvath rolled his eyes.

"Honestly, how did you ever manage to woo her in the first place? Come on, we're going to the store. You are going to buy her a box of assorted chocolates, some red roses, and a small, fluffy stuffed animal. Preferably a teddy bear. Don't you look at me like that, I know what I'm talking about."

"You're crazy," she said, a goofy smirk curling her lips. "So crazy it just might work!"

Horvath made a noise of exasperation in the back of his throat, gently grabbing her arm and dragging her towards the stairs. This girl was going to be the death of him…


	11. It Didn't Work

**Title:** The Magical Education of Liza Stutler

**Author**: skarletfyre

**Rating:** M, for language, mature situations, drug content, underage drinking, possibly ideologically sensitive material, and all that crazy stuff I'm so fond of.

**Summary:** Twenty years later, Dave's falling apart. His teenage daughter is a loose cannon and knows nothing of magic, his wife is dead, his career is failing. Horvath chooses this of all times to make his grand reentrance, setting his sights on that which Dave treasures most.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own, nor am I affiliated with Sorcerer's Apprentice or Disney or any of it's associates. I'm also broke, so suing would be pointless.

**A/N:** I was listening to a lot of _Plain White T's _when I wrote this chapter. Maybe that'll explain things. And yes, there's a line from '_Up Against The Wall_' in here. Oh, right, and there's some moderate naughtiness in here. _**kenobigirlliz**_, you might want to skip the last part to avoid squickage. Sorry guys, no lesbian love. …You know, I wonder if there's even any guys on this site, much less reading this story… Review and let me know if you're a guy, please!

* * *

Jillian was just getting ready for bed when she heard something thwack against her bedroom window. She figured it was probably just a branch, then remembered that there wasn't a tree outside her house. She almost screamed when it happened again.

Very cautiously, she crossed the room and slowly pulled back the curtains to look out. Much to her surprise, there were two Nerf sticky darts stuck to the glass. She shrieked and took a step back as a third one came zooming out of the dark, bouncing off and disappearing downward. She unlatched her window and looked out. Her eyebrows shot up.

"What the hell are you doing?" Jillian shouted down at the dark haired girl on the sidewalk, trying to reload her _Firefly N-8 _Nerf gun. Liza looked up sharply and grinned at her, then stooped and grabbed something from the ground next to her. She held it up to the light. Jillian recognized it as a bouquet of roses. Her jaw dropped in surprise.

"I'm sorry!" Liza hissed from the ground, obviously trying to be quiet and not wake Jillian's parents. She bent again and came back up with a teddy bear in her other hand. Jillian let out a snort of restrained laughter. Was she serious? Flowers and stuffed animals? The only thing missing was-

"I got you some chocolate, too, but I only have two hands!"

Jillian giggled, momentarily forgetting why the gifts were being presented to her. The smile slid from her face.

"What are you doing here, Liza?"

Liza seemed to notice the change in her voice, her face falling slightly.

"I came to say I'm sorry," she hissed. Jillian's room was on the second floor of the old brick townhouse, and it was pretty unlikely that Mr. and Mrs. Marrows were going to heave themselves away from _Dancing With the Stars_, but Jillian sort of enjoyed the precaution of whispering.

"Sorry for what?" she called back, leaning her head and shoulder out the window.

"For- for hitting you." Liza said, quieter than before. Jillian raised an eyebrow.

"Is that all?"

Liza looked confused.

"Did I do something else wrong?"

Jillian face-palmed for a moment, then looked back down.

"There were a few more things, yeah. You never exactly did explain to me who that old guy you were with was."

"Seriously? He's a tutor, Jilli-Bean. I'm not sleeping with him, I promise. And I'm not a whore, either."

Jillian remembered what she'd said to Liza that night, and felt a little twinge of guilt. But her words had held some truth. 'Fidelity' wasn't in Liza's vocabulary. She pursed her lips.

"I'm sorry I threw coffee at you," she said, a bit sheepishly. "Did it burn?"

"In a good way," Liza shot back, grinning widely. Jillian couldn't help smirking, but it was short-lived. The distance from Liza over the past week had given her time to think deeply about things, and about 'them' in particular. At first, Jillian had thought she was in love with Liza, but had later realized that she was in love with the _idea_ of Liza. Someone wild and untamable, the unpredictable element in her life, something to chase fruitlessly. She cared deeply for Liza, but after last week…

Jillian was a year older than Liza. She was more mature mentally, through probably not physically. She was an adult, and it was time to move on with her life and stop chasing after impossible dreams. Her and Liza were never going to grow old together and sit on the front porch, drinking tea and reading the newspaper. Liza wasn't like that. She didn't think like that, and probably never would. She was a commitmentphobe to the core. She stuck with something if she liked it, then moved on when something better or more interesting came along. Jillian had been losing her for a while, starting with the addition of Jared, but it had been getting worse. It was time to move on.

"Liza," she started softly, though loud enough that the ground-bound girl could hear her, "I'm sorry about what I said to you the other night, and I'm sorry I flipped out the way I did. You coming here like this is very sweet, but… I've been thinking, alright? You said yourself that we weren't serious, so I'm not technically breaking up with you, but if we _were_ together, then what I'd be trying to say is that I think we need a break."

The look on Liza's face could only be described as that of a kicked puppy.

"Oh…"

Jillian felt like she'd just taken candy from a baby. It was awful, but it had to be done. A clean break, like ripping off a Band-Aid… Right?

"Maybe we can still be friends?"

Jillian knew there was a very small chance of that, but she had to try. Even in the poor light from the street lamp, she knew it wasn't going to work. Liza was very quiet for a moment, then she bent and picked up her Nerf gun. For a moment Jillian thought she was going to shoot her with it, but all she did was hold it limply by her side, glance up at the window once last time, and walk away.

She left the bag of candy and flowers behind on the sidewalk. Jillian felt like vomiting.

* * *

It was very quiet in the cozy little hotel room, which was a good thing. It was nearly two in the morning, and Maxim Horvath was fast asleep, having a rather pleasant dream about a very nice Welsh girl he'd known about three centuries ago. This dream was abruptly interrupted, as was his sleep, by a loud thump and the blindingly bright overhead lights being turned on.

He sat bolt upright in bed and grabbed his walking stick, blearily focusing it on the figure standing in the doorway. His vision cleared after a moment and he recognized it to be Liza. He growled in frustration.

"Just what the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" he hissed at her. In response, she walked into the room and roughly slammed the door behind her. It was then that he noticed she seemed to be swaying in place, her hair tangled and her clothes rumpled. Even from across the room, he could smell the alcohol on her.

"It didn't work," she slurred at him, shrugging off her jacket with some difficulty. When she got it off, she slung it messily onto the chair by the door. Horvath knew instantly what she was referring to. He slung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, slowly walking over to her. He placed his hands comfortingly on her shoulders, steadying her.

"I'm sorry, Liza," he told her. "I know what it feels like. What exactly did she say?"

"Some bullshit about needing about a break and wanting to be friends," she mumbled drunkenly at him, her head lolling to the side, not meeting his eyes. "That chocolate was really fucking espensive, too…"

Horvath chuckled slightly.

"You're too young to be burdened with these things. You'll have plenty of time to be wounded by love when your older, then you'll grow up to be cold and bitter like me."

Liza raised her eyes and looked at him strangely.

"Who hurt you, Maxim?"

The tenderness in her voice threw him off, and he certainly wasn't expecting it. The use of his first name surprised him as well. She'd never addressed him as anything other than 'Dude,' 'Hey you,' and 'Master,' though the latter was only ever sarcastic, usually preceded by 'yes' and accompanied by a limp and a creepy grin. He stared at her for a long moment before replying.

"That was a very long time ago," he said softly. "I fell in love with her, but I wasn't the only one who saw how beautiful she was. She chose him over me. I found out by… interrupting them."

Liza nodded thoughtfully, but the inebriation made it almost comical.

"_Who said that it's better to have loved and lost? I wished that I had never loved at all…_" she sang softly to herself, swaying slightly. She leaned forward slowly, drunkenly, and rested her forehead against his chest. Horvath wasn't quite sure how to react to this, so he simply patted her awkwardly on the back, a rather lame gesture. They stood like this for a few minutes, silently, each of their minds a thousand miles away and thinking of better times.

Horvath was actually quite surprised that the little blonde girl hadn't taken Liza back. While true that she was stubborn, snarky, and often downright disagreeable, she had a good heart and a good head on her shoulders. She almost reminded him of himself at her age, though with a lot less sex and drugs and alcohol. Liza Stutler was an entirely different person when sober and put in a healthy environment. Her insatiable thirst for knowledge was obvious to him from the start, as was her ability to solve problems and puzzles. She was a fast learner, but only if the subject interested her, and a very eloquent speaker if she wanted to impress someone. He'd gone through her bag once, when she was off throwing a fit about something or other, and he surprised to find a volume of works by Niccolò Machiavelli. That, combined with a book about the comprehensive study of Arthurian 'legends,' cemented his growing opinion that there was more to this strange, spastic girl than met the eye. It was refreshing to know that there were still people like her modern society.

Liza gave a little hum of contentment, then carefully drew away. Her lovely blue eyes were slightly unfocused as she looked up at him, her head titled back slightly because he was a good few inches taller than her. Her stared back at her, still thinking. Perhaps if he'd been paying attention he would have moved in time.

Before he could comprehend what she was doing, Liza leaned forward on her tip-toes and kissed him.

Horvath reacted instinctually, trying to pull away and step back. She had other ideas, however, taking a secure grip on the collar of his nightshirt and holding him in place. He grabbed her wrist and yanked her hand away, pulling away from her with a gasp. He stared at her for a moment.

"What the hell was that?" he asked loudly, holding her about a foot away from him by the shoulders and wiping his mouth with his other hand. She smirked drunkenly up at him.

"Hopefully a precursor of good things to come," she slurred, trying to work her way out of his hold. It didn't work. He stared at her in astonishment.

"Good gods, you're even drunker than I thought," he grumbled. She giggled.

"Yup. Completely trashed. I get horny when I'm drunk. Lucky you."

She took a step forward, forcing him to take one backwards. This continued until the backs of his knees bumped the edge of the bed. Horvath stumbled, not expecting it, and sat down heavily. Liza made her move, climbing over and placing one leg on one side of him, the other steadying herself on the floor. She kissed him again, and this time he had considerably less room to maneuver away. She tasted of cheap liquor. He turned his head sharply and tried to push her off.

"Liza, stop," he said, swallowing hard as she placed a hand on his chest and tried to tilt him back, trailing her fingers slowly down his torso. Needless to say, she did not stop.

Her mouth worked it's way down his jaw, gnawing slightly on that spot where neck and jaw line connect. He couldn't stop a moan from clawing it's way up his throat at that. Nobody had done _that_ to him in an extremely long time.

"Liza, stop it, we can't do this," he tried again, but with noticeably less conviction in his voice. She obviously noticed this and redoubled her efforts, beginning to fumble with the buttons of his nightshirt. Horvath once again tried to push her off a him, but failed.

"You are my apprentice! This is perverse in so many ways, it's not supposed to- _fuck!_"

This last exclamation was let out as she wormed her hot little hand down the front of his trousers, simultaneously grating her teeth against his earlobe. He thought he might pass out. The protests stopped shortly after that.

Liza removed her hand just long enough to peel her tee shirt over her head and throw it across the room and allow him to remove her bra, then she was back at it with a vengeance. Horvath retained enough cognitive ability to set his hands in motion, deftly unbuttoning her jeans. She pressed her free hand hard against his chest, forcing him back onto the bed and crawling over him. She somehow managed to remove her pants in the process, kicking them fitfully off the bed and straddling him. He lost his shirt in seconds, and his pants were well on the way. Her mouth navigated its way down his neck and collarbone, making its way down his chest. In the back of his mind, a little voice that sounded suspiciously like his mother was yelling at him for being such a lecherous pig and cursing his immortal soul.

Then Liza's mouth reached it's destination and nothing in the world, anywhere, at all, mattered anymore.


	12. Speak of the Devil

**Title:** The Magical Education of Liza Stutler

**Author:** skarletfyre

**Rating:** M, for language, mature situations, drug content, underage drinking, possibly ideologically sensitive material, and all that crazy stuff I'm so fond of.

**Summary:** Twenty years later, Dave's falling apart. His teenage daughter is a loose cannon and knows nothing of magic, his wife is dead, his career is failing. Horvath chooses this of all times to make his grand reentrance, setting his sights on that which Dave treasures most.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own, nor am I affiliated with Sorcerer's Apprentice or Disney or any of it's associates. I'm also broke, so suing would be pointless.

**A/N:** I just realized that in every Horvath/OC fic that I write and they start "getting' jiggy wit' it," my OC always practically rapes Horvath. Just a thought.

* * *

She should have been home by now.

Dave was panicking. Sheer, bloody, panicking. Liza had never stayed out all night before without letting him know. Ever. She would occasionally stagger home at three in the morning or later, but she _always_ came home. It was now well past eight and he still hadn't heard from her. He'd called her cell phone seventeen times, and it always rang then went voicemail. His messages had gotten increasingly loud and more desperate.

There was always the possibility that she'd 'spent the night' with a 'friend,' but he preferred not to think about that. Dave would rather think that she'd been kidnapped, and not that she was ignoring him because she was naked with someone. He was a father. It was his job to assume the worst had happened. If it wasn't Sunday, he'd have called the school.

He glanced fitfully at the clock, which now read 9:07, and then looked to the door. Of course, she didn't waltz through it in perfect health like he expected, but the mental image comforted him. Dave sighed to himself, then roughly punched her number into his phone and held it up to his ear.

* * *

Horvath was awoken by a low buzzing sound, coming in beats from somewhere across the room.

When he opened his dark eyes for the first time that morning, he came face to face with the sleeping form of Liza Stutler. His apprentice. It was slightly disconcerting to realize that she was incredibly naked.

He bit back a groan of regret as he recalled the events of last night. It shouldn't have happened. She was drunk. And underage. He'd taken advantage of her. He'd broken her trust. He was a pervert.

He didn't use protection.

This realization hit Horvath like a ton of bricks. His eyes closed in horror. How could he have been so _stupid_? There were any number of easy and quick spells he could have performed in a pinch, even if he wasn't in possession of any of the modern methods. Of course, his mind had been in a completely different place, but that was no excuse.

He stared at the girl lying next to him, watching her with a feeling of growing dread. The buzzing had started again. He guessed that it was her phone, though he couldn't see it..

Liza was fast asleep on her stomach, face mashed into the pillow and mouth slightly open. A few strands of dark hair had cascade into her eyes, but it didn't seem to bother her. Her arms were curled tightly around the pillow, compacting it into a bulging mass of fluff to suit the shape of her head. She looked peaceful, and very beautiful. A purple lovebite shone on her shoulder, peppered with darker bruises in an exact imprint of his teeth. Horvath had been unable to help himself with that one. And besides, she'd left a nearly identical one on his shoulder, along with claw marks all down his back and shoulders.

In addition to being incredibly persistent, she was also damn near insatiable.

On more than one occasion, Horvath had thought he was going to pass out from exhaustion, and had told her so. She'd just laughed and kissed him, writhing her body in a particularly satisfying way and filling him with new energy. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had so much sex, but it certainly wasn't in the last four centuries. Horvath worried that he actually might have hurt her in his enthusiasm. He _had_ been rather rough , though she seemed to like it that way. His back was a little sore, along with other parts of his body, but all in all he felt rather good. He sighed in contentment and carefully rolled over to look at the clock. His eyebrows raised when he saw what time it was. It had been a very long time since he'd slept in so late.

Liza groaned next to him as he rolled back over, scrunching her eyes shut a little tighter against the sunlight shining through a crack in the curtains. Horvath smirked. She probably had a monster hangover. His expression slowly changed to apprehensiveness as she rolled slightly, cracking her neck with a turn of her head and arching her back luxuriously. The sinewy muscles strained under her skin, the tendons and joints popping satisfactorily. Horvath's eyes went a bit hot as he watched her, remembering the way her body had moved last night, the way she felt, the way she tasted, all the little noises she made under him, on top of him. He swallowed a took a deep breath to calm himself down. She stiffened slightly.

Liza was still for a moment, still arched facedown with here head on the pillow. She slowly turned to look at him, brushing her hair out of her eyes. Horvath stared back at her. She blinked.

"Did we fuck?" she asked, her voice sounding weak and scratchy. Horvath raised an eyebrow and had to stop himself from being proud. She was a bit of a screamer.

"Yes," he said simply. "Several times."

"Oh," she said, dropping her gaze. She raised it after a moment. "Was it good?"

Now he was unable to stop himself from smirking.

"Very."

She nodded thoughtfully and was silent. After a moment she rolled over onto her back, exposing her chest to him, and stretched her arms over her head, moaning in satisfaction as her shoulders popped. Horvath resisted the feral urge to pounce on her, but his eyes burned with lust. She seemed to notice this when she turned to look at him. A small smirk crinkled her face. His eyes flicked instantly to her lips as her tongue darted out to wet them, remembering the wonderful things that mouth was capable of.

"Did you rape me or did I attack you?" Liza asked him, laughter in her eyes. Horvath raised an eyebrow at the fact that she would joke about something like that.

"You attacked me," he snarked. "And I have the teeth marks to prove it."

She laughed and ran a hand through her hair. He was having trouble keeping his eyes at face level, and she wasn't making it easy. Every few seconds she would shift or writhe and do something to make herself move, occasionally emitting a low groan. Horvath literally wanted to maul her. He then remembered his earlier thoughts.

"Liza," he started softly, his brow creasing. "Last night… It all happened very fast-"

"Lucky for you, I don't remember of any it then," she said with a crooked smirk. Horvath caught the meaning and glowered.

"That is _not_ what I meant, and certainly not what happened. What I'm saying is that you staggered into my room and started undressing me, then demanded that I fuck you. Not long after I lost the ability to form coherent sentences. I didn't have any time to prepare, or- or- do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

Liza, who had since propped herself up on her elbows, stared at him for a moment. She raised a dark eyebrow.

"Are you trying to imply that you didn't use a condom?" she asked condescendingly. Horvath sighed.

"Yes, that is exactly what I am trying to tell you."

Much to his surprise, she simply rolled her eyes at him.

"Ugh, don't worry about it. You may not have heard, being so abysmally old and all, but they've invented this wonderful little capsule that prevents against the serious and detrimental condition known as pregnancy. Relax, I've been on The Pill since I was fourteen, I'm safe."

Horvath let the breath he didn't realize he was holding, sighing in relief. He should have known. A small smile graced his features.

"Good. I was worried for a moment."

Liza scooted closer and leaned in, kissing him lightly on the mouth. She pulled away slowly, staring into his eyes. Horvath stared back at her, tenderly running his hand up and down her arm, reveling at how soft her skin was under his fingertips. He started to lean forward again, fully intending to not let her leave the room for at least another three hours.

The buzzing sound started again, catching her attention. She sat up in bed and stared around the room, her dark hair falling angelically down her shoulders. Horvath sighed in resignation and leaned back against the headboard. Liza's cerulean eyes alighted on her pants lying on the floor next to the bed. She rolled and stretched and grabbed them off the floor, yanking her cell phone out of one of the pockets. She cursed and flipped it open.

"Hello?"

Liza nearly dropped the phone as a deafening male voice began shouting over the line. Horvath furrowed his brows, not liking that tone. However, he soon figured out that it was her father calling to check up on her. He could just catch bits and pieces of what was being said on the other line. David was clearly upset.

"_Where… you? …Been worried sick! I was… call the police! …have any idea… time it is?_"

"Dad, relax! I'm fine! Jesus H., take a deep breath and some Ritalin."

"_Don't you… tone with me! …aren't you at home? I've been… panic attack… coronary, about to start… hospitals and morgues… want you home… twenty minutes! Do you… pick you up? Where are you?_"

"Hey, hey, hey! Who says I want to come home yet! I'm busy, Dad, I'm sorry I didn't call. I got distracted by something and lost track of time." David started to yell over her on the other end of the line. "No, Dad, I don't need a ride! I'm not going telling you where I am, either! No, I'm not in danger. I'm very safe and with someone I trust. I'll be home by noon. Bye, Dad. Yeah, noon. Bye."

She disconnected the call and quickly powered off her phone, setting it roughly down on the bedside table. She flopped back into the pillows with a groan and rolled over onto her stomach, dragging the blankets over her head. She reemerged a moment later and stared at Horvath incredulously.

"Oh my frogs and fucking fairies, no wonder I'm so goddamn sore!"

He laughed for a good long while at that.

* * *

Two weeks passed with alarming speed.

Liza's eighteenth birthday was just around the corner, and Dave was expecting Balthazar and Veronica to show up within the next hour or so. He'd called and renegotiated with them to come a week before, instead of three days. Liza had trust issues on the best of days, she probably wasn't go to believe some crazy old guy in pointy shoes who told her she was related to Merlin. And if she did believe him, Dave would have to worry about her.

He fidgeted fitfully with the papers on the table. A little under two months ago, he had sat there with his daughter and graded papers at one in the morning. Nothing of the sort had been done since.

Liza was spending less and less time at home, and sleeping out more than usual. On average, her bed was empty at least three nights a week. When she was stressed, it was five. She never told him where she was going, who she was with, when she'd be home, who he could call if he desperately needed to get a hold of her… Nothing. She would just disappear and leave Dave wondering where he'd gone wrong.

Things would have been so much easier if Becky were there.

She was the one who was good with kids, who knew how to be tough without being unfair. It was her idea to have kids in the first place. Dave wanted to wait until they were older, had stable jobs, could afford a house. In some ways, he was incredibly glad that she'd been so persistent. If he'd know how little time they would have together, he would have quit both school and work to devote all of his attention to his beautiful wife and their bright-eyed little girl.

Too little, too late.

Becky was gone now, Liza couldn't stand him, and he was losing his mind. Each day seemed to drag out longer and longer, each second ticking past with unbearable slowness. Dave frequently realized that he was glancing at the clock even more than his perpetually bored students, counting down the minutes until his lunch break, and then until he could go home.

But home to what? An empty house? A fridge full of rotten food? A daughter he didn't even know anymore? What exactly was there for him to live for anymore?

No. He couldn't think like that. He had so much more to do in life, and he wasn't about to throw it all away because he was feeling sorry for himself. He was a Merlinian. He was stronger than that.

A familiar nagging though snuck into Dave's mind, whispering to him. That's right. _He_ was a Merlinian. He was kind and loyal and a terrible liar. He was trustworthy, dependable, good-minded, and selfless. The complete opposite of Liza. This worried him greatly.

What if, once Balthazar and Veronica explained to her about magic, she decided to take the low road? What would it mean for them if the Merlin's Circle rejected her? Could he still, in good conscience , teach her the art of sorcery? How would Balthazar react?

Speak of the devil.

Dave shot out of his chair like a bat out of Hell as soon as the first knock sounded. He practically leapt across the room and wrenched the door open, staring breathlessly at the two people standing in front of him.

They looked older than he remembered. Balthazar's hair had gone practically white and his hairline had receded quite a bit. New lines were etched into his face, but his light blue eyes were still just as fierce and manic as ever, albeit a bit more tired. Veronica, standing behind him, looked even lovelier in age. Her long black hair was streaked with grey, but in a sophisticated way. It suited her. Her brown eyes sparkled when she saw Dave, and before he had time to prepare himself she was hugging him. He hugged her back tentatively, all the while looking at Balthazar. The two men stared at each other, mentally sizing the other up. Veronica refused to let go of Dave, and was now talking a thousand miles an hour in something that sounded like old Italian. Balthazar's eyes softened fractionally as he stared at his old apprentice.

"Hello, Dave. Long time no see."


	13. Inappropriate Behavior

**Title:** The Magical Education of Liza Stutler

**Author:** skarletfyre

**Rating:** M, for language, mature situations, drug content, underage drinking, possibly ideologically sensitive material, and all that crazy stuff I'm so fond of.

**Summary:** Twenty years later, Dave's falling apart. His teenage daughter is a loose cannon and knows nothing of magic, his wife is dead, his career is failing. Horvath chooses this of all times to make his grand reentrance, setting his sights on that which Dave treasures most.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own, nor am I affiliated with Sorcerer's Apprentice or Disney or any of it's associates. I'm also broke, so suing would be pointless.

**A/N:** Slightly more descriptive smut scene in this chappie, but it's not all that bad. I don't go into detail describing anatomy or anything like that, so have no fear. However, there is mention of 'pinning,' but once again, no gross details. Just enough to form a vague visual if one were to think hard enough. But not too hard.

* * *

"Is she usually out this late?"

Dave raised his head from the table and looked at Balthazar. The look on the old man's face was slightly condescending, but not in a malicious way. He sighed.

"Later, generally. Sometimes she doesn't come home at all. It depends on the kind of day she's had."

"I see…"

"Don't take that tone with me, Balthazar, please," Dave said, rubbing his eyes. It was nearly ten o' clock and he hadn't heard a thing from Liza. He'd told her when she left for school that he wanted her home that night, but it was his fault not to specify what time. "I know how to deal with my own daughter, I've been doing for almost eighteen years now, mostly alone."

Balthazar bit his tongue. Dave felt a little bad for snapping, but honestly? His old master didn't know Liza, or have idea what she could be like sometimes. Truthfully, this was mostly Dave's fault for cutting him and Veronica out of their lives, but that wasn't the point. He knew what he was doing.

"I'm sorry, Dave," Balthazar said quietly after a moment. "I didn't mean to question your parenting skills. You're right. She's your daughter, and you're her parent. You know best."

Dave was slightly stunned. He could count on one hand the times Balthazar had apologized to him, and most of those were concerning Becky's illness. He recovered quickly, responding by nodding gruffly.

"I suppose I'll try calling her anyways," he said, digging around in his pocket for his phone. "She probably won't answer, but I'll leave a message. She usually checks those every few days."

Balthazar smirked slightly. Liza sounded like she had grown up quite a bit since he last saw her. Not surprising, seeing as she was only six last time. Veronica reached, seeing the wistful expression on his face, and grabbed his hand comfortingly. He squeezed hers in return and smiled at his wife.

Dave halfheartedly punched a few numbers into the little device and held it up to his ear. It rang four times. Halfway through the fifth ring, Liza picked up.

"Please tell me this is important?"

He was dismayed to hear that she sounded out of breath. He could hear rustling in the background, but tried not to dwell on it.

"When have I ever called you just to say hello? I thought I asked you to be home early tonight, Liza."

"Yeah, but it's only ten. I'll be there by- _stop it, I'm on the phone!_ -eleven or eleven thirty. Is that okay?"

Dave closed his eyes when she spoke back to someone else and was responded to by a throaty male chuckle. He had clearly interrupted her and one of her many 'friends' while they were 'playing.' This realization was not particularly comforting to him as a father. And he didn't like the sound of that chuckle either. He swallowed.

"I would prefer it if you were here earlier, maybe ten thirty. Before you get all fussy, there's some people here that I want you to meet that are very important to me. They're going to be staying with us in the guest room for a while?"

"What? What do you- hang on. _You're like a child! Cut it out, this is important!_" Dave heard a man's voice say something in the background, but he couldn't make out what. His brow furrowed. That voice sounded familiar…

"Hi, Dad. Sorry about that. What about important people in the guest room?"

"There are two old friends of mine and your mother's that are here right now, sitting with me at the kitchen table, who I would very much like for you to meet, Liza. They are going to be living with us for an as yet undetermined amount of time, and I want you to meet them tonight so you don't come home at three and freak out because there's a strange old guy in the bathroom, okay?"

Balthazar glared at his former apprentice, but it seemed to have done the trick.

"Oh wow, Dad, great example. Yeah fine," she said, sighing heavily. There was more rustling in the background. She squealed. It sounded like she was hitting someone. "Okay, Dad, I'll be there by ten thirty. Love you, bye."

There was the sound of rustling and giggling, then a loud thunk and some static. The line went dead. Dave moved the phone away from his ear and set it down on the table. They all looked at it. He was silently for a moment.

"She's with a friend," he said after a moment. She'll be here in half an hour."

* * *

Meanwhile in Horvath's hotel room, Liza was currently being bent backwards over the table, the room's owner himself whispering sweet, indecent nothings in her ear. He'd chucked her phone across the room not seconds before, and was inwardly pleased when it shattered against the wall. Liza didn't share his joy, of course, but she was too distracted to protest at the moment.

They'd been meeting like this for about two weeks now, and it had gotten to the point that because she was there so often, he was starting to have trouble sleeping without her. Horvath wasn't sure if this was a good thing or not, but he didn't really mind.

He leaned closer and kissed her deeply. She pulled away gasping.

"What can you do in half an hour?" she said breathlessly, her blue eyes slightly glassy. Horvath grinned evilly at her. He had her pinned under him on the table, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist. One hand supported himself above her and the other held her hips in place. He leaned down and sucked at her neck, refreshing the mark he'd left there the night before. She groaned loudly. He pulled away and examined his handiwork.

"The question is," he panted, "What _can't_ I do in thirty minutes?"

She laughed and dug her nails lightly into his shoulders, tossing her hair back sexily.

"Ready, set, go?" she asked, grinning deviously. He matched her expression.

"Ready, set, go is right."

The sound she made when he started moving was music to his ears.

* * *

"Tell me again why you won't be spending the night under me?'

Liza glanced back at Horvath as she tugged on her jeans. She didn't remember quite how, but they'd eventually ended up in the bed, which was where he was now laying, watching her get dressed with those damn impossibly dark eyes. She smirked back at him and zipped her pants up.

"Apparently my dad has friends, which I find shocking. He's also apparently invited them to live with us for a while. Lucky me," she snarked, looking around for her bra. Horvath furrowed his brow.

"Did he mention any names?" he asked, sitting up on his elbows.

"Nope. At least I don't think he did. I was a little distracted," she said , glaring pointedly at him. He grinned at her, watching her stoop and grab her bra from the corner of the room where he'd thrown it. She slipped it on and tugged the straps up, then walked over and turned her back to him.

"Can you hook it up for me?"

Horvath grudgingly shifted out of his very comfortable position and closer to the edge of the bed. He hooked the bra shut, then wrapped his arms around Liza's waist and dragged her back against him. She squealed and try to wiggle out of his grasp, but he was much stronger than her. Securing her with one hand, he brushed the hair away from her shoulder with the other. A low moan escaped her lips as he nibbled on the deep purple love-bite he'd so tenderly created earlier. He tucked a finger under one of the bra straps and snapped it lightly against her back.

"I prefer taking these off to putting them on," he mumbled against her throat. She giggled, then gasped as he bit down hard, breaking the skin. He lathed his tongue slowly around the spot, lapping up the blood that pooled in the individual teeth marks. The groan she let out was positively delicious.

"Are you secretly a vampire or something?" Liza managed to gasp out. Horvath smirked and delicately kissed the new mark he'd left, loving the way it stood out in dark relief on her pale skin.

"Not at all. However, you do make some rather wonderful noises if I find the right spot…"

He started to snake his hands downward, reaching for the buttons on her jeans, but Liza grabbed his wrists and pulled his arms away. She managed to worm her way out of his grasp and stagger to her feet. She glared faux-sternly at him.

"I have to get home, remember? Dad's friends? Important meeting? Half an hour? Ringing any bells?"

Horvath scowled, then looked thoughtful.

"Is it unusual for your father to have friends over?" he asked her, leaning back and pulling the covers a little closer around his waist. Liza gave him a funny look.

"Yeah, I guess. Why do you keep asking about it?"

"I was just thinking. Well, forming a theory might be a more apt description. I trust you remember reading about Balthazar Blake in the Encantis?" he asked, spitting out his old nemesis' name with unnecessary venom. Liza tugged her t-shirt over head and smoothed it out, nodding at him to show she understood.

"Yeah, but I don't see what he- Oh. Ohhh…. OH! You think he's the one at my house?"

"It seems plausible. You're birthday is coming up, isn't it? When is it again?"

"April sixth," Liza said over her shoulder, grabbing her bag out of the chair by the door. "You think he's waiting until I'm eighteen to tell me about magic? Seriously? Well, he's a bit late for that-"

"But he can't know that, Liza," Horvath said, suddenly serious. He wrapped the sheet tightly around his waist and stood up, walking over to her and staring intently into her eyes. She looked up at him in surprise.

"It would be incredibly bad, for both of us, if your father or Balthazar were to learn that you are my apprentice. The last time I saw them, it nearly ended in a fight to the death, do you understand? That man is not your friend, no matter how nice he seems or how much your father looks up to him. He is dangerous, and he will use you to get to me if he can. Merlinians are not nearly as honorable as they claim to be, they'll stoop to the same tricks as the rest of us if it gets them what they want."

Horvath's eyes darkened in memory of growing up, tolerating all of Balthazar's little pranks and practical jokes, all the jibes and taunts meant to be friendly banter. The man never seemed to get that some things just were not funny, no matter what tone they were used in. He mentally shook himself, coming back to the present. Liza was looking at him in concern. He forced a smile and gently took hold of her arm.

"Of course, I could be wrong and they could just be some old college friends," he said, his tone lightening. "Either way, it be wise to be cautious. Do you have your ring with you?"

"Of course," she said without hesitating. She dug around in her bag for a moment, then withdrew the clunky old thing, waving it around slightly. He plucked it out of her hand.

"I think I'll keep that for now," said Horvath, hiding it in a fist behind his back. Liza looked like was about to protest, so he raised a finger to her lips. "Nah ah. Just in case I'm right. It would awkward for them to find this. Trust me, it's better this way."

She glared half-heartedly at him for a moment, then her eyes turned devious. Ever so slowly, she opened her mouth and closed it over his finger, gently sucking on it. The blood in his veins instantly changed direction, his eyes going heated. He shuddered as she lightly scraped her teeth over the pad of his fingertip, smirking at him. He cleared his throat.

"If you ever want to leave this room, I suggest you stop doing that," he said throatily. She grinned deviously at him, but stopped anyways. He was moderately disappointed.

"Well, go on and get out," he told her gruffly, shooing at her with one hand. Liza just laughed and opened the door behind her, giving him a quick kiss on the lips before slipping out into the hall.

"I'll tell you how it goes, and if you're right, when I see you next, alright?"

"Alright, fine. Just go, or I'll never let you leave."

He could still hear her laughing when she closed the door behind her.


	14. You Smell Funny

**Title:** The Magical Education of Liza Stutler

**Author:** skarletfyre

**Rating:** M, for language, mature situations, drug content, underage drinking, possibly ideologically sensitive material, and all that crazy stuff I'm so fond of.

**Summary:** Twenty years later, Dave's falling apart. His teenage daughter is a loose cannon and knows nothing of magic, his wife is dead, his career is failing. Horvath chooses this of all times to make his grand reentrance, setting his sights on that which Dave treasures most.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own, nor am I affiliated with Sorcerer's Apprentice or Disney or any of it's associates. I'm also broke, so suing would be pointless.

**A/N:** The last chapter had relatively no bearing on the plot, except to advance the timeline and accentuate the relationship between Liza and Horvath. This also advances the plot with a time-jump, but it's a little more important this time. Enjoy and review please.

* * *

"Hang on, Dave. I'm confused. Are we telling her about magic _tonight_ or on her birthday?"

"Her birthday," Dave said without hesitation. Balthazar nodded in understanding. His expression turned thoughtful.

"Then tell me again why we had to come a week beforehand, instead of just showing up on the sixth and doing it then?"

"Because she wouldn't believe you or trust you if you just randomly appeared into her adult life and started claiming you could do magic tricks. She'd look at you like you were crazy, possibly point and laugh, then go off somewhere and get stoned. I know, I know, but it's her way, alright?"

Dave looked tired. It had been twenty-eight minutes exactly since he'd called Liza and there was still no sign of her. True, she technically still had two minutes to show up before she was counted as 'late,' but Balthazar was bored. He and Veronica had been at Dave's for a few hours now, and still hadn't seen their goddaughter, their entire purpose for coming from England. They'd been given the grand tour of the place, which was actually quite sizable. With four bedrooms, two bathrooms, a large kitchen and a living room, the place was a financial goldmine. Dave and Becky had gotten it for a steal during the recession, and just in the nick of time. Nowadays, the place was worth several times what they'd paid for it.

Balthazar had often wondered about Dave's resistant attitude towards magic, particularly when it came to his daughter. But every time he or Veronica tried to breach the subject, Dave shot them down with either a glare or some form of telling them to mind their own business. It just didn't make any sense. Perhaps now that they were actually going to do this thing, he'd be more open to explaining.

The three of them looked up at the sound of a key turning in the lock. A few seconds later, the knob turned and door opened slowly.

The girl who could only be Liza Stutler walked into the apartment without looking up and slung her bag onto the sofa next to her. She kicked off her shoes and stuffed them into a little recess in the wall, shrugging off her hoodie and recklessly throwing it onto the coat rack. When she finally looked glance up at the table, she stopped in her tracks. They all stared at her. Surprise was clear on her face.

"Um, hi," she said, straightening up slightly. Dave stood up slowly, prompting Balthazar and Veronica to follow his example. Liza's eyes, which Balthazar instantly recognized to be her mother's, flicked between himself and Veronica several times before eventually settling on Dave. Her expression became neutral.

"You're three minutes late," he said to his daughter, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice. Liza rolled her eyes.

"Really, father you can be so rude sometimes. It's introduce first, _then_ lecture," she snarked at him, earning a raised eyebrow. She had a soft voice, but it was low and slightly scratchy. Quite distinct, and Balthazar recognized it to be a side effect of smoking at a young age. He raised an eyebrow, which she noticed instantly. They stared at each for a moment, baby blue against periwinkle, then she looked away like nothing had happened.

"Ha ha," Dave said, crossing his arms. "We'll get back to that later. Liza, these are two of my dear friends, Mr. and Mrs. Blake. They're your godparents and they've come all the way from England to be here for your eighteenth birthday."

"What about the other seventeen?" she said, then her eyes widened. Balthazar smirked slightly.

"We were there for six of them," he told her, clearing his throat and catching her attention. She looked at him skeptically. "You were very young, I'd doubt you would remember us. You've grown up quite a bit."

"That tends to happen with age," she said snarkily, but there was a smirk on her face. Balthazar realized just how much she'd come to look like Becky. It must be torturous for Dave, to see her every day, with those eyes and that smile. She'd inherited Dave's dark hair, however, making her quite the striking beauty. He didn't know how his former apprentice could manage it. And speaking of Dave, the man was now glaring at his daughter, obviously disappointed in her manners. Liza simply stared back at him, amused defiance practically radiating off her.

"Come inside and stay a while, dearest daughter," Dave drawled sarcastically, gesturing flamboyantly to one of the chairs at the table. She looked slightly hesitant, but that soon passed.

Striding slowly and deliberately to the table, she roughly dragged the chair out, making sure the legs scraped against the floor and made as much noise as possible. She sat down hard and leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest. The smirk on her face was barely noticeable unless one looked hard enough. Balthazar was doing just that. After a moment of awkward silence, the rest of them all resumed their original seats and sat silently staring at their hands before them. Liza quickly became bored with this.

"You never told me I had godparents," she said, directed at Dave. Veronica and Balthazar's eyes flicked first to her, then to her father. Dave looked slightly uncomfortable.

"You never asked," he shot back. The glare she gave him was positively venomous. Balthazar experienced a strange tingling in his gut, a feeling that something wasn't quite right. He looked closer at her. As if on cue, or possibly under the intensity of her father's gaze, she nervously brushed her hair back behind her ear. Balthazar's eyebrows shot up as her neck came into view. Dave's entire body tensed up.

Two very large, very dark purple hickies were clearly visible on her milky skin, one on her jugular and the other half hidden on her shoulder. Liza noticed that everyone had gone silent and was staring at her. Her eyes widened.

"Shit!" she hissed, quickly clapping a hand over her throat. But the damage had been done. She glanced cautiously at her father. Dave's brown eyes were fixated on her neck, his mouth a thin, cold line. He swallowed hard, then looked down at the table.

"Would I be correct in guessing that's Jillian's work?" he asked quietly. Balthazar's ears pricked up. Jillian? But that sounded like a girl's… name…

"What?" Liza said, looking surprised. "Hell no, Jillian and I don't even talk anymore."

Now is was Dave who looked surprised.

"Really? Well then, would you mind telling me their name? Is it Jared?"

Dave's daughter looked slightly alarmed.

"How the hell do you know Jared?" she asked with a small note of panic in her voice. Dave continued to stare at the table.

"I don't. But you've mentioned him in passing. Was it him?"

"No, I haven't seen Jared in a couple weeks."

"I see. That still doesn't answer my question. What is their name, Liza?"

Balthazar was quickly understanding the situation. Liza clearly had multiple partners, the context of which was not hard to figure out. What he did not understand, however, is that if David knew what was going on, why did he allow it to continue? Didn't he care about his daughter's safety and virtue?

Liza sighed and looked at her hands.

"You don't even know him," she said bitterly. "And it's none of your business anyways. I'm safe, alright? Relax."

"Don't you dare tell me to relax, Liza Veronica Stutler," Dave said coldly. Liza was clearly surprised by the authority in his voice. "I am your father, and it is my job to care for you. I asked you a question, twice, and I am still expecting an answer. Do I need to ask you again?"

The silence in the room was so thick it could have been cut with a knife. Balthazar was confused for a moment before he remembered that the girl had been named after Veronica, and realized that Dave was not shouting at his wife. Liza stared defiantly at her father, contempt plain on her face, defiance in her eyes. Dave stared right back, neither one of them looking like they planned to back down any time soon. After an incredibly tense two minutes, Liza finally gave in. Her eyes fell to the floor, her jaw clenched tightly. She took a deep breath.

"Max," she said sharply. "His name is Max, alright? Do you want any more details? Wanna know how long I've been sleeping with him, or how good he is in bed? Do you want me to explain what he was doing to me when you called, or how much I liked it? Wanna hear about how big his fucking cock is and what it feels like, and how I know just how to move so he-"

"That's enough!" Dave shouted, slamming his fist down on the table. Liza jumped, but it was very slight. Her eyes were cold and hollow, hatred written in every line on her young face. Dave stood up so suddenly that he chair fell over. He turned around and glared out the window, griping the wall so hard his knuckles were white. There was more tense silence in the tiny kitchen.

"Go to your room," Dave said after a long moment. He sounded exhausted. Balthazar caught the glint of malice that flashed through his goddaughter's blue eyes, and for a moment he felt a shiver of fear run down his spine. There was no doubt in his mind, though he couldn't explain why, that his girl could be deadly if provoked.

Liza stood up just as suddenly, and made the extra effort of knocking Dave's mug off the table and onto the floor where it shattered. She stormed out of the kitchen and headed down the hall. The pictures and knick-knacks on the wall shook with force of the slamming door.

Balthazar and Veronica stared down the hall in shock, then looked at each other. Very slowly, they each turned their heads to face Dave.

Still staring out the window, the man did not pay them any attention. His entire body was rigid with either rage or anguish, possibly both. Balthazar couldn't see his face so he wasn't sure. However, he was beginning to understand why Dave had been warning them since they got there about his daughter. She was spiteful little thing, her temper atrocious. She reminded him of someone, but he couldn't place his finger on who. It was definitely someone not good, he knew that much.

Veronica stood up slowly, carefully, and silently walked up behind Dave. Cautiously, she reached out and laid a hand on his shoulder. He tensed, but didn't shout at her. He was still for a long moment, then he hesitantly reached over and laid his hand on top of her hers. He turned to look at her. She smiled at him.

"Thank you," he said simply.

"That's what friends are for, David."

* * *

Over the course of the next week, Balthazar Blake was beginning to get a very bad feeling about his goddaughter.

It wasn't just the 'she's-a-teenager-this-can't-end-well' feeling, it was more of a foreboding. Whenever he brought it up to Veronica, however, she would just look at him funny. He didn't know to mention it to Dave, but he suspected that his former apprentice shared his feelings.

Liza had stayed out all day after the big fight, and then disappeared for the night. When she staggered home at eleven AM the next day, her hair was disheveled, cloths stretched out, and there were several new and distinct bite marks on her person. There were scratches down her hips and thighs, and a few bruises on her back and arms. Balthazar knew these things because he'd been unfortunate enough to open his bedroom door just in time to see her make her way from the bathroom to her room. Completely naked. He could have sworn he heard her laughing as he quickly slammed the door shut.

But that wasn't the only reason she worried him.

Comments had been made by Liza that didn't exactly strike Balthazar as the type of thing that a seventeen year old girl should be thinking, let alone saying out loud. They were particularly disturbing in and of themselves, but the context in which they were made concerned him greatly.

They had all been watching a foreign horror movie two nights ago, which was apparently a regular Tuesday night occurrence in the Stutler household. The film had been French, titled '_Martyrs_,' and told the story of a young girl who had been kidnapped and brutally tortured for an unspecified amount of time, then escaped and went out to seek revenge on her tormenters with aid from another girl. The movie had been dark and horribly violent, several parts of it too terrible for Balthazar to watch. Veronica's face had remained buried in his shoulder for the better part of it as well. Dave had occasionally cringed or made disgusted noises, but Liza's eyes were fixed unwaveringly on the screen, not even reading the subtitles. She'd chosen the movie from her personal collection, promising it to be a psychological thriller with a fantastic plot. Balthazar thought it was grotesque.

At the end of the film, he'd asked her how she could stand to watch such things, and commented that the villains in the story, members of a secret society devoted to discovering the secrets of the afterlife by torturing young women to induce a state of 'transcendence,' were sick and warped. Her retort had alarmed him.

"They wanted to know something," she'd told him simply. "Sometimes, in order to get what you want, sacrifices must be made."

Those words had haunted Balthazar for the past day and a half. Liza's birthday was right around the corner, and he was beginning to understand Dave's hesitance about teaching her magic.

He was scared of her.

Balthazar's thoughts were interrupted by the door to the apartment opening quietly next to him. He was sitting on the sofa, flipping channels by himself. Veronica was out shopping and Dave was at work, so he was just lazing around the house on a quiet Thursday afternoon. Apparently, however, Liza had other plans.

She stopped in the doorway momentarily when she saw him looking at her, but continued to push her way inside. She made a disparaging noise when she saw that he was watching an old black-and-white movie, but otherwise didn't comment. She kicked off her shoes, but left her jacket in place.

"Where's my dad?" she asked him, peering down the hall suspiciously.

"Work," he replied, popping a fistful of popcorn into his mouth. She looked back at him.

"What about your wife?"

"Shopping," he said around a mouthful of crunchy goodness. He turned back to the screen and was prepared to forget about her when she walked around and sat next to him.

"Are they seriously playing '_The Thin Man_' on AMC?" she asked, smirking and crossing her arms over her chest. Balthazar was surprised by her movie knowledge, but not entirely confused by it.

"Apparently," he said, munching on more popcorn. Liza stared at him for a moment, then reached over and grabbed a handful for her self. Balthazar raised an eyebrow at her. She responded by flicking a popped kernel into the air with her thumb and catching it in her mouth. She grinned at him as she chewed.

The two fell into comfortable silence and enjoyed the movie together.

By the time the unlikely suspect was revealed to be the murderer, Nick and Nora Charles having cleverly unmasked him, Balthazar and Liza was both in stitches from laughing so hard. Liza revealed that she'd practically been raised on The Thin Man movies when she was little, and had developed a love of William Powell and Myrna Loy. Balthazar had discovered the movies by accident, but was delighted to discover that they weren't the same old boring detective shows of the time. They were fresh and funny and had just the right amount of slapstick to balance out the clever humor for the less intelligent. He was glad that his goddaughter could appreciate movies other than those ghastly horror films.

"I'm thirsty," Liza said, pushing herself off the couch and padding towards the kitchen. "Want anything?" she asked over her shoulder.

"Maybe just some water," Balthazar said, sitting up and setting the now-empty popcorn bowl aside. As he did, he caught of a whiff of a scent that made him stop in his tracks.

He knew that cologne. He didn't know from where, exactly, but he recognized it from somewhere. It was gone as quickly as it had come, but he couldn't take his mind off it. He was still sniffing the air tentatively when Liza came back with his drink. The scent intensified. He cleared his throat.

"What perfume are you wearing?" he asked cautiously. The look she gave him implied she thought that he was creepy.

"I don't even _own_ any perfume," she told him, taking a step back. Balthazar's suspicions deepened.

"I see," he said, trying to lighten his tone. "Sorry, I thought I smelled something. It must have just been the popcorn."

"Uh-huh," she said, clearly not believing him. She took a sip of her grape juice and wandered down the hall.

"I'll be doing homework, so don't bother me," she told him as her head disappeared into her room. The door closed shortly after. Balthazar sat where he was on the couch for a long time, thinking.


	15. Max Is Back

**Title:** The Magical Education of Liza Stutler

**Author:** skarletfyre

**Rating:** M, for language, mature situations, drug content, underage drinking, possibly ideologically sensitive material, and all that crazy stuff I'm so fond of.

**Summary:** Twenty years later, Dave's falling apart. His teenage daughter is a loose cannon and knows nothing of magic, his wife is dead, his career is failing. Horvath chooses this of all times to make his grand reentrance, setting his sights on that which Dave treasures most.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own, nor am I affiliated with Sorcerer's Apprentice or Disney or any of it's associates. I'm also broke, so suing would be pointless.

**A/N:** There will be new developments in this chapter! Yay! And I think I've finally figured out an ending, but I'm not sure. I'll write it when I come to it.

* * *

"What do you think will happen tomorrow?"

Horvath opened one eye blearily, having nearly been asleep. He looked down at the young girl he was spooned around, yawning.

"Hmm? What about tomorrow?"

Liza shifted slightly in his arms, making him instinctually tighten his grip around her waist. He heard her sigh in exasperation.

"With Balthazar and them. You know, my birthday? Magic? Trauma and drama?"

"I bought your present today."

She snorted derisively and shifted again.

"I don't want any presents from you," she snarked. "Now stop trying to change the subject. What do you think they'll do tomorrow? I mean, d'ya think they'll try and make me one of their apprentices? Is that even possible?"

"No," Horvath mumbled, pulling Liza even closer against him and burying his face tiredly into the back of her shoulder. He'd spent the better part of the day teaching her several new offensive spells that required quite bit of energy to perform. After that they had returned to his hotel room with Liza in a state of extreme excitement at her successful mastery of the spells. He hadn't even opened the door fully before she started trying to undress him. Not half an hour earlier, she had done that- that thing that he highly doubted there were any words to describe and had nearly given him a heart attack. Horvath was now extremely satisfied and exhausted and all he wanted to do was sleep. Talking could come later.

Or not.

"What would happen if they tried to make me one of their apprentices?" Liza asked persistently, turning her head to look back at him. Horvath grumbled something unintelligible into her hair and refused to open his eyes. She sighed in frustration and fitfully rolled over in his arms, pressing her hands against his chest and staring stubbornly at him. Feeling her gaze, he grudgingly opened his eyes and stared back.

"Can you repeat the question?" he snarked at her. She smirked at him.

"I said," she started slowly, clearly mocking him, "What would happen if they tried to make me one of their apprentices, even though I'm already your apprentice?"

Horvath's eyes darkened. That would certainly pose a problem. He though a moment before answering.

"I'm not entirely sure," he said quietly, frowning slightly. "I don't imagine they'd be able to complete the bond, or even start it in the first place. It could be something as simple as the spell refusing to work, or it could cause a reaction powerful enough to shake the very foundations of the earth."

Liza snorted slightly, clearly skeptical. After a moment, her expression turned thoughtful. She looked down at his chest, walking her fingers gently along his collar bone. He woke up a little bit more.

"Why did you pick me anyways?" she asked. Horvath looked at her questioningly. "As an apprentice, I mean. Was it just to spite my dad or something?"

Now it was his turn to smirk.

"Something like that, I suppose. I didn't actually have a plan at all," he confessed. "All I knew was that I certainly didn't want another enemy to deal with, especially not one gifted with Merlin's blood. You wouldn't be much use to me dead, and I'd definitely prefer you fighting beside me instead of fighting against me. I'd feel simply awful about killing something so beautiful."

Horvath found it remarkable that she could still blush, no matter how slightly. Liza cleared her throat, smirking slightly, and slowly reached up to run her fingers back through his hair. He closed his eyes at the sensation, remembering not an hour before when those same fingers had been twined harshly in his dark locks, pulling his head back painfully and pleasurably as he had his way with her. Her touch was much gentler this time, but the implication remained the same. He slowly opened his dark eyes, staring into her lovely blue ones.

He allowed his eyes to slowly trail down her body, taking in her delicate jaw line and slender neck, both littered with dark love-bites and bruises. It was his evidence of his utter lack of self-control around her. There was a mark or two on her shoulders as well, and some scratches on her back. The majority of the scratches were on her hips and thighs where his nails had slipped and raked down them in his enthusiasm. She called them 'battle-scars' and had given him his fair share as well. Horvath's back was practically raw from Liza's fingernails digging into it. He'd actually yelped in pain when the hot shower water hit the gouges a few mornings ago. It certainly the wasn't worst pain he'd experienced, but it had stung quite a bit. Liza, who had been in the shower with him, just laughed and called him a big baby.

Horvath thought he'd quite thoroughly proved to her that he was no such thing.

His train of thought was broken by Liza snuggling closer against him, resting her forehead against his collar bone. She sighed contentedly and closed her eyes. His face softened fractionally, his arms tightening around her. It felt incredibly good to hold her like this, but he couldn't explain why. Perhaps it was just the sense of being needed, of being wanted. Whatever it was, he liked it. He had been alone for a very, very long time, and was currently unable to remember the last time he had 'snuggled' with someone. He'd nearly forgotten what it felt like, among other things.

He afforded one more look down at his young apprentice, who was now curled peacefully against him, before closing his eyes and drifting off into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

Liza snuck silently into her apartment at close to six thirty in the morning. It was April 6th, her eighteenth birthday, and she knew that her father would want her to be home for it, even if she would rather spend it learning magic and having lots of sex. But, as the great philosopher '_Jagger_,' once said: "You can't always get what you want."

In the off chance that anyone was awake, she very quietly set down her bag and shrugged off her jacket. She touched her hand to collarbone, making sure the necklace Maxim had given her was still there.

Liza had woken up to something cold and metallic being placed around her neck. She panicked at first, but realized she was in no danger when Horvath had leaned down and gently kissed her on the lips.

"_Happy birthday," _he'd whispered softly in her ear, sending pleasurable shivers down her spine. He had proceeded to trail kisses down her neck and shoulder, the bed shifting as he rolled over and carefully pulled her upright. She'd grinned as his hand moved to cover her eyes, the other gently grabbing her wrist and pulling her out of the bed. He'd led her to the bathroom, staying unnecessarily close behind her, then flicked on the light and uncovered her eyes. All breath was expelled from her lungs.

The necklace chain in itself was a masterpiece. Each link was a tiny silver leaf, expertly crafted down to the smallest detail. But it was the pendant itself that took her breath away.

Craved from the brightest and clearest sapphire she had ever seen, the blue emperor butterfly glinted glamorously against her breastbone. It was exactly the same shade as her eyes, rimmed with fine silver and hooked neatly to the center of the chain, just like it knew where to be. Liza stared back at Horvath in the mirror in wonder, finding him to be staring right back at her. His eyes were positively hypnotic and never left hers as he leaned down and kissed her shoulder, his hands coming to rest on either of her upper arms.

"_It's the only thing I could find that even came close to reflecting your beauty."_

Liza smiled at the memory, not even half an hour old. She'd gotten showered afterwards and had somehow persuaded Horvath to let her put clothes on, citing that she needed to get home before her father had a hissy-fit. He had reluctantly conceded. She was in a cab ten minutes later, a fresh love-bite on her neck and a new bit of jewelry dangling on her chest. He'd made her promise to wear it all day.

She cursed loudly as she tripped up over her own feet, grabbing the wall for support. Unfortunately for Liza, the wall was decorated with a picture frame, which her hand happened to snag. She dived in an attempt to catch the falling picture, tripping and landing heavily on the floor. Glass tends to make a very loud sound when it's dropped from any type of height and breaks.

Liza glanced up nervously as the doors on either side of the hall opened, her father and Mr. Blake poking their heads out to see what the noise was. Both were fully dressed, which surprised her slightly. It was six AM on a Saturday, her dad usually stayed in bed until well after noon on weekends. Then she understood.

In addition to the confused looks on their faces, they were also wearing very large and colorful party hats. They had been waiting up for her, and obviously intended to host a surprise party. She could've died of embarrassment.

"What an interesting way to start a new era," Dave said from the hall, leaning on his doorframe and smiling smugly at her. Liza glared at him, but it was half-heartedly.

"Oh shush. You know you'll never be this graceful."

It had been such a long time since she'd heard her father laugh, she had almost forgotten what it sounded like. That nasally barking bray sounded foreign to her ears, that goofy smile oddly matching. Mr. Blake seemed surprised to hear it as well. Liza's surprised increased when Dave walked over and held out a hand to help her up. After hesitating for a moment, debating whether or not to be a snotty bitch and deny, she took hold and allowed him to pull her up. He was stronger than she'd thought.

"Thanks, Dad," she said, straightening her shirt. Dave's eyes narrowed.

"Where did you get that?" he asked, gesturing to her chest. Liza looked down, immediately realizing what he was referring to. Her hand clapped over her necklace.

"Birthday present," she said calmly, trying not to look too flustered. Dave frowned, peering closer at the blue butterfly.

"That looks very expensive, Liza. Who's it from?"

"Max," she said, trying to sound casual and internally cursing as her voice quavered. Out of he corner of he eyes she noticed Mr. Blake's eyes narrow, but he didn't say anything. Mrs. Blake poked her head out of the bedroom door, also wearing a party hat. However, in addition to that she was wear a pair of Groucho Marx glasses, the kind with the nose and the bushy eyebrows. Liza couldn't help but let out a snort of laughter. Mr. Blake and her father turned to look, then smirked. All attention was successfully detracted from her necklace. Liza sighed in relief.

As it turned out, Dave had a full day planned for Liza. There was to be no lazing around for her or any of that silly-business. First of all, she didn't know whose brilliant idea it was, but they had cooked her a massive celebratory birthday breakfast. There were several types of cooked eggs, ham, pancakes, waffles, bacon, sausage, and toast. When asked if they'd been preparing for the arrival of a small army, they all just laughed. Liza dug in.

After all the dishes had been washed and put away, and all of them felt like they were going to explode, Dave announced that it was time for a Harry Potter movie marathon. Liza couldn't remember the last time she'd loved her dad so much.

* * *

Balthazar was at a loss. This? This is what so many people had been in a craze over?

They were halfway through the fourth movie, _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, _and he was still confused. Liza and Dave clearly knew what was going to happen, yet they were both shouting warnings at the screen like they could prevent it. Balthazar had yet to figure out who the title character of the 'Prince' was.

They had been confined to the living room for going on eight hours now, pausing only for food and bathroom breaks. And they still had two more movies to watch. He was beginning to wonder if Dave was really serious about revealing Liza's identity to her. Every few minutes he would glance meaningfully at Dave, but the man seemed lost in the joy of spending time with his daughter. Liza was curled up next to him, using his arm as a teddy bear, and screaming something to a blonde boy on screen. Draco was his name, if Balthazar remembered correctly.

The whole portrayal of magic in these films was wildly inaccurate, but he could see the appeal. The story was compelling and honest, and was a classic tale of Good vs. Evil. The acting wasn't half-bad either, he just preferred reality to fantasy.

There was something that Balthazar found a little disconcerting, however. Every time the bad guys would come on screen, Liza would give a little whooping cheer and smirk, like she approved. She also frequently referred to the main character, Harry, as a whiny little 'bitch-boy,' whatever that meant. During one the breaks between movies when they were discussing the plot, she even went so far as to say that he needed to grow up and realize that he can't save everybody.

"_I mean, honestly?" she said, pouring her self a tall glass of milk. "Does he honestly think that he, a scrawny little fourteen year old boy who has yet to hit puberty, is going to succeed in stamping out all evil in the world? That's the only thing that's ever bothered me about the series. How damn arrogant Harry is. Not everyone _wants_ to be saved."_

Liza was currently in the shower, claiming that all the sexual tension between Draco and Harry was making her feel dirty. She'd scrambled out of the room laughing as before they could express their alarm at this statement. She'd been in there for quite some time now.

The three adults were halfway through part one of 'The Deathly Hallows' when Dave felt something vibrating near his hip. He looked down, alarmed, and quickly realized what it was.

Liza had forgotten her phone.

In her haste to escape their horrified stares and get out of there, it must have slipped from her pocket in between the couch cushions. He dug around and felt the thing, taking hold of it and pulling. His brown eyes widened when he saw who was calling.

"What is it?" Balthazar asked when he saw Dave's expression. Dave turned to phone towards the older man, showing him who was calling. Balthazar's eyebrows shot up.

"So the mysterious 'Max' makes an appearance," he said quietly, catching Veronica's attention as well.

"Answer it!" she said, pausing the movie. Dave hesitated for a long moment, the phone's vibrations the only sound in the apartment. He clicked the speaker phone button.

"Hello?" he said, disguising his voice as much as he could to sound like Liza's. It evidently worked.

"Are you coming home any time soon or do I have to get up and drag you back to my bed?" drawled the voice on the other line. That voice. That horribly familiar voice. _His_ voice.

Maxim Horvath was back.


	16. Endings and Beginnings

**Title:** The Magical Education of Liza Stutler

**Author:** skarletfyre

**Rating:** M, for language, mature situations, drug content, underage drinking, possibly ideologically sensitive material, and all that crazy stuff I'm so fond of.

**Summary:** Twenty years later, Dave's falling apart. His teenage daughter is a loose cannon and knows nothing of magic, his wife is dead, his career is failing. Horvath chooses this of all times to make his grand reentrance, setting his sights on that which Dave treasures most.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own, nor am I affiliated with Sorcerer's Apprentice or Disney or any of it's associates. I'm also broke, so suing would be pointless.

**A/N:** Yay, last chapter! Thank you all for your support and I apologize for taking so long to be done with the damn thing. Note: There will be no sequel or follow-up. Please do not request one, I'm telling you right now that I'm not going to do it no matter how hard you plead. I'm moving on with my life. Adios.

* * *

Something was wrong. Liza would never answer the phone for him with a simple 'hello,' then hang up abruptly when she heard his voice. He'd double and triple checked to make sure he'd dialed the right number, and it was definitely hers.

Thinking back on it, Horvath realized that it hadn't actually sounded like Liza's voice at all. Unless she was with Jillian, which he highly doubted, there was no other plausible explanation for someone who was not Liza to be answering Liza's mobile phone. Unless…

"Shit," Horvath said aloud, snapping his phone shut with unneeded force. If that had been Dave or Balthazar who answered the phone, pretending to be Liza, then they surely would have recognized his voice. Balthazar especially.

Fuck.

* * *

Dave, Balthazar, and Veronica sat silently on the couch, not paying the slightest attention to the movie, waiting for Liza to come out of the bathroom.

There was no mistaking that voice, not even over the phone. Maxim Horvath had returned to New York after nearly twenty years of absence. He had found Liza. He was the mysterious 'Max,' the man Liza had been so brutally open about her relationship with. He was the owner of that dark chuckle Dave had heard in the background when he called his daughter, a week ago now. He was the one who'd left all those marks on her body, the one who'd given her the necklace, who she'd been spending nearly every night that week with.

Dave felt like he was going to throw up.

He glanced over next to him on the floor where Liza's bag sat, slightly open. He caught a glimmer of something, barely visible, tucked between a book and a piece of paper. His eyes narrowed, his hand hesitantly reaching out for it. Even as his fingers closed around it, he knew exactly what it was. Hands shaking, he slowly pulled the thing out of the bag and held it out for Balthazar and Veronica to see.

It had been twenty years since David Stutler had seen Merlin's dragon ring, his original channel of power on his road to becoming the Prime Merlinian. Stolen by Horvath on that night so long ago in exchange for the life of his girlfriend, lost forever, or so he'd thought. The fact that it had ended up his daughter's book bag, combined with the voice on the phone, was indisputable evidence that Maxim Horvath was indeed alive and well. The man Dave had feared for so many years was in New York City. Sleeping with his daughter.

The three of them looked up sharply as the bathroom door was flung open, Liza stepping out amidst a cloud of steam clad only in a white towel. Balthazar averted his eyes. As she turned to walk down to her room, Dave caught sight of the scratches and bruises on the backs of her thighs, clearly made by someone's hands and fingernails. He felt bile rising in his throat.

"Hey, Liza?" he managed to get out, trying to sound nonchalant. He quickly pocketed the dragon ring before she turned. She adjusted the towel closer around her.

"'Sup, padre?" she asked brightly, flipping a dripping strand of hair over her shoulder. Dave forced a smile.

"How do you feel about going out for dinner tonight? There's something that I want to show you."

"Yeah, sure! That sounds great. Gimme a few minutes to get dressed, 'kay?"

"Take as long as you need, hon."

She smiled fleetingly at him, then turned and walked down the hall, vanishing into her room. Dave's face returned to that of it's previous despair. He turned to Balthazar with desperation in his eyes, swallowing hard.

"We have to take her to the lab," he said quietly. Understanding flashed through Balthazar's light blue eyes. "Horvath's probably told her everything, but if he hasn't then we need to get there first."

"There's always the chance that she has no idea who he really is. Horvath is a very clever man, Dave. He wouldn't risk exposing his true identity to her unless he was absolutely, without a doubt positive that she wouldn't turn on him."

Dave looked at his old master with hollow eyes.

"Balthazar, if she pledges her allegiance to him, then-"

"I know, Dave," the old man said gently, placing a hand on his once-upon-a-time apprentice's arm. "I know."

* * *

"Ugh, I'm so stuffed."

Dave had taken Liza out to one of the many hot dog and burger stands floating around New York, saying that it was the best one in Manhattan. Balthazar had to admit, it was pretty damn good.

It was nearly seven at night and a bit chilly outside, but Dave insisted that they go for a walk. Balthazar knew that it was all part of the plan, but Liza was a little underdressed for the weather. She'd opted for a pair of loose-fitting faded jeans with paint stains on them and a grey tank top with some sort of dinosaur on it, using only a light green and white hoodie for warmth. After five minutes of strolling, her teeth were chattering.

"Dad, can you show me the thing tomorrow? It's really cold out here."

"Don't worry, hon, we're almost there. You want my jacket?"

"Then you'll be cold."

"Nah, I'll be fine. Here, take it."

Dave slipped off his heavy fleece jacket and handed it to Liza. She looked a little hesitant, but reluctantly slid it on anyways. Balthazar caught sight of Dave's hands moving slightly, and recognized it to be a self-sustaining warming spell. What he didn't know what that it was the first bit of magic Dave had performed in nearly thirteen years. He smirked to himself and reached out for Veronica's hand. She smiled and twined her fingers through his. They walked the rest of the way in silence.

The old subway turn-around station had become considerably dustier in the past twenty years, but otherwise it looked jut the same as it when Dave left it last.

The Tesla coils had long since been moved out when Dave graduated college, but most of the furniture still remained, albeit in much poorer shape. The Merlin's Circle, however, looked exactly the same. The dust that coated the surrounding area seemed to have avoided it entirely, resting a good clean inch away from the lines carved in the floor as though it had been painstakingly arranged that way.

Dave led the way down the stairs, followed by Liza. Balthazar and Veronica walked slowly, lagging a few steps behind. As Dave reached the final step, he slid his hand into his pocket, grasping the cold chunk of metal tightly. He took a deep breath and turned to face his daughter.

Liza was wearily regarding the Merlin's Circle, standing hesitantly on the last step and gripping the handrail. Her eyes flicked to him when she caught him staring. He forced an encouraging smile, an impending sense of dread growing in his chest.

"Come on down, it's alright. I want you to see something."

Looking extremely cautious, Liza slowly moved her feet onto the ground and came to stand next to him. Balthazar and Veronica followed, but remained a few feet away. Dave looked over at his old master, who nodded encouragingly at him. They were already there, they'd come this far, there couldn't be any giving up now. Not when they were so close.

Dave took a deep breath to relax himself, rolling his shoulders for the same purpose. The joints in his back and neck popped pleasantly, though the last one twinged a bit. Dave ignored it and strode forward, coming to stand in the very center of the Circle. He apprehensively turned back to face his daughter.

"Liza, I haven't been completely honest without you," he started carefully. "About everything. About who I am, about who _you_ are, about what's really going on in our lives. I want to apologize to you for that, and we're here tonight so I can make it up to you."

"Dad…." The panic was clear in her eyes. Dave knew then, without a doubt, that all of his worst suspicions were true. But he couldn't stop now. Gut feelings weren't enough, he needed absolute proof. He bit his lip and took a deep breath, then extended his arms on either side of his, palms up. He closed his eyes.

Feeling that rush of power flowing through his veins, waiting at his fingertips to be commanded, it made Dave wonder why he'd ever given it up. He concentrated hard, calling upon every shred of energy he possessed to make it happen, to complete the vision in his mind's eye. He inhaled deeply, tasting the dust and decay in the air, the rotting perversion of all he stood for around him. He held his breath.

Dave slammed his hands down around him, exhaling forcefully. Green fire erupted from the carved crevices in the floor, shooting high into the air around him. Through the towering flames he saw Liza take step back, drawing a hand up to cover her mouth. A small smile of satisfaction creased Dave's face. The flames gradually died down to ankle height.

Liza could feel the heat of the fire licking at her skin, and was aware of the panic written all over her face. With any luck, they wouldn't recognize it for what it was, thinking it to be fear or confusion. They couldn't possibly know anything. She'd been so careful…

She had to get out of there. While Maxim wasn't exactly sure what would happen if she, as a Morganian, set foot inside a lit Merlin's Circle, they were both fairly certain that it wouldn't be good. Liza was not willing to risk everything to play along with her father's game.

Dave fumbled around in his pants pocket for a moment, his hand coming out in a closed fist. An uneasy feeling slowly pooled in Liza's stomach. He turned his hand over and opened it, revealing it's contents. Liza felt her gut writhe into knots.

Her dragon ring glimmered at her in the fire-light, cupped gently in her father's palm.

That was impossible. There was no way for him to have that. No way in hell. She'd left that ring tucked in her bag, back at home. If he had it, that meant that he-

That bastard. He'd gone through her stuff while she was in the shower. Which meant he'd probably checked her phone. Fuck.

"Liza," he said, redirecting her attention back to reality. She tried to look confused, noticing his false reassuring smile. His eyes revealed it all. It was too late. He knew everything. So why was he doing this to her?

"Hon, I know this probably very confusing for you right now, but I need you to understand something."

Her father had always been a terrible liar, and that wasn't changing anytime soon. But Liza kept quiet, gently biting the inside of her lower lip. She watched Dave take a deep breath, obviously stealing himself.

"Before I say anything else, you need to know this. Magic is real. Your books on Arthurian Legends? They're not legends, Liza, they really happened. Merlin was a real man, a real sorcerer, one of the most powerful that ever lived. Can you accept this fact?"

Liza hesitated for a moment before nodding. She didn't like this one bit.

Dave sighed and nodded in confirmation.

"Alright then. The next thing I need you to come to terms with that is that you and I are actually the last living descendants of Merlin. What I just did was magic. Can you comprehend that or shall I fetch you a chair?"

"Dad…"

"Now, I know this may be a lot to take in, Liza, but it's important, very important. Come here, hon, it's okay. The flames won't hurt you, just step inside them and walk to me."

He nodded reassuringly, extending a hand and beckoning to her. Liza stared at him, desperation in her eyes, taking a step back. She could feel Balthazar and Veronica watching her every move, but dared not turn to look at them. A hard lump formed in her throat, making it difficult to swallow. Her father's eyes bore into hers, hollow and empty, hopeful and terrified. She could see his heart breaking with every passing second.

"Step into the Circle, Liza," he said quietly, a command more than a question. A dark cloud seemed to pass over her vision, her heart slowing momentarily before returning to it's full-force beating. Her lungs deflated as she slowly exhaled. Her voice shook as she spoke.

"I can't."

Dave's eyes, usually a warm dark brown, blackened when her voice cracked. He slowly lowered the hand he'd formerly had extended towards her, his shoulders tensing.

"Step into the Circle, Liza. I won't say it again."

"Now, now, David, you know she can't do that."

Liza whirled around at the familiar voice behind her. Maxim Horvath was striding out of the shadows, hat in place and cane in hand. The remaining breath forced itself from her lungs when he locked eyes with her. As long as she had known him, she had never truly been frightened of him until that moment. Though the cold hatred and rage burning in those dark eyes was not meant for her, it still sent shivers down her spine. He jerked his head infinitesimally at her, and before she could stop herself her feet were carrying her to him. She stopped slightly behind him, reaching out and taking hold of his extending arm, wrapping both of her arms around it and pressing close to him. He glanced at her momentarily, then returned his attention to the three furious Merlinians staring them down.

The betrayal in her father's eyes made her want to be sick, but her heart had made it's choice. Nothing they said could change her mind, and she could never be one of them. Her grip on maxim's arm tightened fractionally.

"You bastard."

Maxim looked sharply up at Balthazar, still standing on the stairs with Veronica. He quirked an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry, Balthazar, I didn't quite catch that. Would you care to repeat yourse-"

"She's a child, you sick son-of-a-bitch. Of fall the evil I know you to be capable of, I never expected-"

"Never expected what?" Maxim snapped, pulling his arm from her grip and wrapping it tightly around her waist, holding her against him. Liza resting her head on his shoulder and her hands on his chest, her eyes never leaving her fathers.

"She is hardly a child, Balthazar, and had no innocence left to corrupt so don't even suggest such a foolish thing. She is grown woman and can choose for herself. You'd lost her before she even knew my name."

This last comment was direct at Dave, and it clearly hit its intended mark. His face contorted slightly, still looking at his daughter, pain and anger flashing in the depths of his irises. Liza turned her head away from him and buried her face in Maxim's shoulder, closing her eyes. His grip on her waist tightened slightly, then eased.

"We should be going, Liza," he said to her, loud enough for the others to hear. "There's nothing left for you here."

"Says who?"

It seemed Dave had recovered his voice at last. Liza looked at him gain, and was surprised to see a plasma bolt glowing in his palm. The blue gem on the head of Horvath's walking stick glowed softly, but as a warning not a threat. She balled the material of his shirt into her fist, silently pleading with him not to start anything. He must have understood.

"I came here to gather my apprentice, David, not fight with you."

"I won't let you take her from me!" Dave shouted, moving into an offensive pose. Liza staring up at Maxim imploringly, glancing between him and her father. They couldn't fight over her, it wasn't supposed to happen this way… She cared about them both too much to choose sides.

"I'm not taking her, Dave, as you can clearly see she is coming with me of her own free will."

"She doesn't know what she's doing! Have you told her what you've done, what really happened? Does she even know what it means to be Morganian?"

"Why don't you ask her yourself?" Maxim sneered. "She's right here, Dave, it's very rude to speak of someone like they aren't here at all. You might hurt her feelings."

"Stop it," Liza said, finding her voice at last. Both of them looked at her in surprise. She inhaled deeply through her nose and exhaled through her mouth, like she'd always been taught to do in tense situations. Without looking at Maxim she pulled away from him, stepping towards her father and the Circle. His hand reached out and caught her wrist. She glanced back at him, nodding in assurance.

"I'll be alright," she said softly, reaching up and resting a hand on his cheek momentarily. His brow was furrowed as she drew away and walked over, stopping just outside the fiery edge of the Merlin's Circle. She stared at her father over the licking flames.

"I love you, Dad," she said. "I always have and I always will. But this is my choice and my life. I've chosen my path. I'm going with Maxim, you can't stop me."

"Over my dead body!" Dave hissed, quickly crossing the circle and grabbing his daughter by the shoulders. He stared intently at her for a long moment, staring deeply into her eyes, no doubt searching for the shadow of the little bright-eyed girl who'd died inside her so many years ago. Liza hesitantly placed a hand on his shoulder, and then hugged him tightly. He hugged her back, desperately, fingers clutching at the folds of her jacket. She could have sworn he was crying, but when the three minutes it took for them to separate were up, there wasn't a tear on his face. She smiled softly at him.

"I have to go, Dad," she said quietly, closing her hand around the lump of metal she'd just removed from his pocket. "I _have_ to. I've never so good, so- so _right_ before! Please, Daddy, just let me go…"

"I can't," Dave said, his voice cracking. "If you leave tonight, Liza, I promise that I will never stop fighting to get you back, not until the day I die will I give up on you. Think about what you're leaving, what you'll be missing. You have your whole life to decide this, it shouldn't have to be now-"

"But it does," she said, cutting him off. "All my life I knew I was special, knew I was different from everyone else. And no matter how much you tried to ignore it, you knew too. I feel, _free_, Dad! I feel like I'd never seen the sky before I knew who I was and what I am! I need to go away from here, and I need to do it now. I will never forget you and I will _always_ miss you, but… I have to do this. For me."

Liza stared back into her father's eyes for what she knew would probably be the last time, feeling a surge of emotions welling up inside her. She pulled away from him as the tears began to leak down her face, quickly walking back over to Maxim and hiding behind him, grabbing his arm tightly.

"We need to go. Now," she hissed quietly at him, tugging him gently backwards. He looked down at her, then took one last sweeping look around the room, taking in the cold and stony faces of his two former comrades and the furious, agony-filled face of young David, not so young at all anymore. She wanted to leave, to curl up into a ball and crumble to dust and blow away in the wind. Anywhere in the world was better than there, and somewhere in the world is where she found herself the next time she blinked. A cool, moonlit meadow in the middle of nowhere, mountains in the distance and not a soul as far as the eyes could see. She stared up at the tall man beside her, still holding tightly to his arm, eyes brimming with tears. He adjusted his arm so it looked like he was escorting her to a ball, smiling sadly back down at her.

"Shall we?" he asked, gesturing to the wide open plains stretching out before them. She gave a watery smile back at him, wiping her eyes with the back of her free hand. He took a step forward and she followed, freely being led off into the unknown.

And thus began the magical education of Liza Stutler.

* * *

Yes, the ending was lame. I'm sorry. But it's done now, and everything else can be left to the imagination.


End file.
